THE  ROUND  WORLD  SERIES 

THE  FULL  STATURE  OF  A  MAN.     By  Julian  Warth. 
GRAFENBURG  PEOPLE.     By  Reuen  Thomas. 
THE  RUSTY  LINCHPIN  AND  LUBOFF  ARCHIPOVNA. 

By  Mme.  Kokhanovsky. 
THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  LETTER.     By  Lowell  Choate. 

DOROTHY  THORNE.    By  Julian  Worth. 


THE 


ROMANCE  OF  A   LETTER 


BY 

LOWELL   CHOATE 


BOSTON 
D    LOTHROP    COMPANY 

FRANKLIN    AND  HAWLEY   STREETS 


COPYRIGHT,  1887, 

BY 
D  LOTHROP  COMPANY 


TO   ANNIE, 

MY     EARLY    FRIEND     AND     COUNSELOR,    THIS    WORK 
IS    LOVINGLY    DEDICATED    BY 

The  Author 


2134747 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 
CHAPTER   I. 

A  PEEP  AT  NEWBURY   PARSONAGE  .....  7 

CHAPTER   II. 

JESSIE   IN   BOSTON  .  .      .    .1     '   .....        21 

CHAPTER  III. 

A   MUDDY  ADVENTURE  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  -34 

CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   LETTER  ...;.....     .........         53 

CHAPTER    V. 

MISS  NORBERRY'S  MISTAKE  .......      69 

CHAPTER   VI. 

A  SUCCESSFUL  PRESCRIPTION  .          .  .  .  .  -83 

CHAPTER  VII. 

BY  CHANCE,  THE  USUAL   WAY        .  .  .  .  .  .      102 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

JESSIE   RENEWS   HER   PROMISE          ......       IQQ 


CHAPTER   IX. 

NEARLY  A   DENOUEMENT         .......      115 

CHAPTER  X. 

A  NEW   LEAF  TURNED  .....  .  .  .      134 

CHAPTER   XI. 

THWARTED  PURPOSES    ........      144 

CHAPTER  XII. 

PICTURES   IN   THE  FIRE  ......     ,     .  .154 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
THE  DOCTOR'S  AVOWAL       .......    164 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 
CHAPTER   XIV. 

MISS  NORBERRY'S  STRATAGEM 174 

CHAPTER  XV. 

DOWN  RIVER  . 184 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
MISS  NORBERRY'S  REPENTANCE 211 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

JESSIE'S   DILEMMA        . 221 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  NIGHT  JOURNEY  ... 238 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

REVELATIONS 245 

CHAPTER  XX. 

WESTWARD  BOUND          .      .    -. 257 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

SURRENDER 276 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

READING  THE  LETTER 296 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

DOCTOR  FORNEY  AT  HOME 308 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ONE  TOO   MANY 314 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
MISS  NORBERRY'S  LESSON ^   .    327 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
RELEASE 33^ 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

WAITING          .  .  .      • 344 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  LETTER. 


CHAPTER   I. 

A   PEEP   AT   NEWBURY    PARSONAGE. 

HIS  serene  Highness  has  come,  Aunty,  and  I 
have  had  the  honor  of  showing  him  to  his 
room.  When  his  High  Mightiness  is  ready,  I  sup- 
pose you  will  be  allowed  to  welcome  your  guest, 
the  great  Doctor  Forney." 

"  Is  he  so  very  formidable  ?  "  Mrs.  Norberry 
smilingly  asked. 

"  Oh  !  perhaps  he  has  only  a  proper  appreciation 
of  himself,"  was  Jessie's  rejoinder. 

"  So  he  has  come.  I  do  not  see  why  I  did  not 
hear  the  bell,"  mused  Mrs.  Norberry,  at  a  loss  to 
understand  how  this  guest  could  have  entered  her 
house,  and  be  already  receiving  its  hospitalities  ere 
she  was  even  aware  of  his  arrival. 

"  He  did  not  ring  at  all,  for  I  reached  home 
7 


8  A    PEEP    AT    NEWBURY    PARSONAGE. 

just  as  the  carriage  drove  up  which  brought  him 
from  the  station,"  said  Jessie.  "  Of  course  I  knew 
at  once  who  he  was,  but  he  introduced  himself 
with  due  formality:  so  august  a  personage  must 
not  for  a  moment  be  mistaken  for  any  one  else." 

Mrs.  Norberry  smiled  at  this  assumption  of 
dudgeon  on  the  part  of  her  high-spirited  niece, 
gently  reminding  her  that  first  impressions  are  not 
always  trustworthy. 

"  I  am  sure,  Aunty,  if  you  had  seen  him  drop  his 
valise  the  moment  he  got  into  the  house,  you  would 
have  been  impressed,  as  I  was,  with  the  impropriety 
of  such  a  magnate  carrying  his  own  baggage,"  was 
the  girl's  laughing  response. 

"  Then  when  I  offered  to  show  him  his  room 
( which,  by  the  way,  he  asked  for  at  once,  as  if  the 
house  had  been  a  public  hostelry )  he  looked  at  his 
valise,  and  then  all  about  as  if  expecting  a  servant 
should  be  in  waiting  in  every  corner.  I  was  on 
the  point  of  proposing  to  take  it  up  for  him  when 
he  did  condescend  to  do  this  service  for  himself. 
But  I  am  sure  it  hurt  his  dignity  not  a  little." 

The  slightly  remonstrative  exclamation,  "  O, 
Jessie !  "  had  escaped  her  aunt's  lips  while  she  was 
speaking,  and  that  lady  now  said,  "You  should 


A    PEEP    AT    NEWBURY    PARSONAGE.  9 

not  judge  any  one  so  hastily,  dear.  Doctor  Forney 
is  probably  unused  to  so  simple  a  menage  as  ours  ; 
and  you  know  the  force  of  habit  is  very  strong, 
even  with  the  best  of  people.  When  he  consented 
to  come  here  and  deliver  the  lecture  to-night,  your 
uncle  took  it  as  a  great  courtesy,  for  it  is  not 
often  the  doctor  favors  a  small  town  like  ours  in 
this  way  ;  and  we  feel  very  desirous  of  making  his 
short  stay  with  us  a  pleasant  one.  So  you  and  I 
will  go  down  at -once,  that  we  may  be  ready  to 
receive  him  when  he  leaves  his  room."  Saying 
which  Mrs.  Norberry  arose,  folded  away  the  work 
upon  which  she  had  been  engaged,  smoothed  her 
hair  and  collar  which  baby  arms  had  rumpled, 
but  not  till  she  was  quitting  the  room  did  she 
notice  that  Jessie  had  seated  herself  by  the  cradle, 
where,  with  her  head  in  a  book,  she  had  evidently 
forgotten  the  guest  whose  claims  upon  their  cour- 
teous hospitality  she  had  just  been  urging. 

"  Are  you  not  coming  down  with  me,  dear  ?  " 
she  asked,  pausing  on  the  threshold. 

"  I  beg  to  be  excused,  Aunty  ;  I  really  must  have 
time  to  fortify  myself  before  another  meeting  with 
the  grand  Mogul,"  returned  Jessie,  with  a  slightly 
impatient  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 


IO  A    PEEP    AT    NEWBURY    PARSONAGE. 

"  But  what  excuse  can  I  make  for  you,  child  ? 
He  will  be  sure  to  inquire." 

"  O,  no  !  he  won't.  He  took  me  for  the  nurse- 
maid," interposed  Jessie.  "  Do  not  fear  that  he 
will  inquire  for  so  humble  an  individual.  Aunt 
Helen  will  be  home  in  a  few  minutes  now,  and  I 
will  send  her  down  to  help  you  entertain  him. 
She  is  always  in  her  element  with  great  people, 
while  they  overshadow  poor  me." 

Mrs.  Norberry  was  evidently  satisfied  of  the 
uselessness  of  trying  to  change  her  niece's  decis- 
ion, for  she  said  no  more,  but  went  to  welcome  her 
guest  whose  step  on  the  landing  she  now  heard. 

This  lady  had  not  been  for  ten  years  the  wife  of 
a  country  minister  without  knowing  what  it  was  to 
extend  the  hospitalities  of  her  house  to  those  who 
were  entire  strangers  to  herself,  as  in  the  present 
instance  ;  for  she  had  never  met  Doctor  Forney, 
though  his  name  was  a  familiar  one,  both  from 
hearing  her  husband  speak  of  him,  and  through  his 
reputation  on  the  lecture  platform. 

"  Jessie,  are  you  trying  to  waken  Bertie  that  you 
are  rolling  him  over  in  that  manner  ?  How  many 
times  have  I  told  you  that  it  is  a  bad  practice  to 
rock  a  sleeping  child." 


A    PEEP    AT    NEWBURY    PARSONAGE.  II 

"  O,  Aunt  Helen !  I'm  glad  you've  come,  for 
Doctor  Forney  is  here,  and  Aunt  Kitty  wants  you 
to  come  down  and  help  her  entertain  him.  Here, 
I  will  take  your  things,"  Jessie  added,  hoping 
thereby  to  expedite  her  aunt's  movements. 

"  So  he  has  come.  I  supposed  he  would  be  here 
by  this  time.  Well,  I  will  remain  with  Bertie,  and 
you  may  go  down  and  assist  your  Aunt  Kitty  to 
entertain  him,"  was  Miss  Norberry's  reply  as  she 
seated  herself  in  an  easy  chair,  and  began  leisurely 
to  divest  herself  of  her  outside  wraps. 

"  I  ?  Why,  I  don't  know  him  at  all ;  and  Aunt 
Kitty  expects  you,  for  I  promised  to  send  you  to 
her  relief  just  as  soon  as  you  came  in,"  cried 
Jessie,  with  smiling  audacity,  which,  however,  did 
not  veil  the  concern  she  felt  lest  her  aunt  should 
decide  not  to  be  sent. 

Helen  Norberry  was  the  Rev.  John  Norberry's 
maiden  sister,  a  lady  of  forty-five  or  thereabouts, 
but  a  still  fresh  and  handsome  woman.  For  the 
last  five  years,  or  since  her  mother's  death  which 
had  broken  up  her  home  in  Boston,  she  had  lived 
with  her  brother. 

But  "Aunt  Helen,"  as  the  children  called  her, 
was  far  from  being  the  typical  maiden  aunt  who 


12  A    PEEP    AT    NEWBURY    PARSONAGE. 

could  be  called  upon  to  do  all  sorts  of  disagreeable 
things  which  no  one  else  cared  to  be  troubled  with. 
Not  at  all ;  there  was  nothing  of  your  humble  ser- 
vant about  her,  and  no  one  but  her  orphan  niece, 
Jessie,  with  whom  it  was  the  purest  sarcasm,  ever 
presumed  to  lay  commands  upon  her.  For  Helen 
Norberry's  strongest  characteristic  was  her  domi- 
nant will  :  she  was  a  born  ruler,  though  had  it  not 
been  for  this  niece  whom  she  had  brought  up,  her 
powers  apparently  would  have  had  but  little  play. 

Loving  Jessie  with  a  single-heartedness  rarely 
found  outside  of  mother-love,  and  feeling  no  little 
pride  in  her  beauty,  wit  and  accomplishments,  she 
yet  allowed  her  no  free  will  of  her  own,  but  dis- 
puted the  girl's  every  independent  action. 

"  Of  course  you  will  go  down.  I  insist  upon  it. 
It  is  not  every  day  you  have  the  opportunity  of 
meeting  so  learned  and  elegant  a  man  as  the  doc- 
tor. I  am  surprised  that  you  do  not  better  appre- 
ciate the  chance  of  making  such  an  acquaintance. 
Besides,  you  owe  it  to  your  —  " 

Miss  Norberry's  sentence  was  not  finished,  for 
she  had  raised  her  voice  in  speaking,  and  a  pair  of 
bright  eyes  had  suddenly  opened  in  the  cradle. 
The  wail  which  followed  was  apparently  a  protest 


A    PEEP    AT    NEWBURY    PARSONAGE.  13 

against  the  disturbance  of  the  peace  which  had 
reigned  before  this  lady's  entrance. 

Bertie's  cries  happily  proved  a  diversion,  and 
saved  Jessie  from  an  ignominious  defeat ;  for 
when  her  Aunt  Helen  asserted  her  authority,  expe- 
rience had  taught  Jessie  that  she  had  no  will  of 
her  own  :  she  was  not  a  free  agent. 

All  Miss  Norberry's  efforts  to  soothe  the  young 
autocrat  whose  slumbers  she  had  so  ruthlessly  in- 
vaded, were  unavailing  ;  nor  did  the  nursery  cease 
to  echo  to  the  child's  cries  till  she  had  yielded 
him  to  Jessie's  arms,  and  left  the  room,  vanquished 
for  once  on  her  own  battle-ground  when  just  on 
the  eve  of  victory. 

"  Hush,  darling!  Jessie  will  stay  with  you,"  were 
words  that  seemed  to  have  a  magical  effect  on  the 
turbulent  spirit  they  sought  to  soothe,  and  as  the 
child  nestled  quietly  into  her  arms,  Jessie  may  be 
excused  the  momentary  light  of  triumph  which 
shone  in  her  eyes. 

Half  an  hour  later  when  she  entered  the  dining- 
room  in  answer  to  the  summons  of  the  tea-bell,  a 
pair  of  baby  arms  were  still  clasped  tightly  about 
her  neck,  while  a  little  rosy  cheek  was  in  close 
proximity  to  her  own. 


14  A    PEEP    AT    NEWBUKY    PARSONAGE. 

"Doctor,  let  me  make  you  acquainted  with  my 
niece,  Jessie  Norberry,  my  brother  Allan's  daugh- 
ter," her  uncle  said  by  way  of  introducing  her  to 
their  guest,  who  was  just  taking  his  seat  at  table. 

"Ah!  Is  it  possible ?  Allan  Norberry 's  daugh- 
ter ?  Miss  Jessie,  I  am  very  happy  to  meet  you," 
said  the  doctor,  with  impressive  earnestness,  giv- 
ing the  hand  she  extended  to  him  a  grasp  so 
hearty  and  lingering  as  to  annoy  her. 

This  very  pronounced  recognition,  now  that  he 
knew  who  she  was,  piqued  Jessie's  resentment. 

"  I  had  the  pleasure  of  receiving  Doctor  Forney 
when  he  came  this  afternoon,"  she  said,  with  a 
mischievous  light  in  her  eye  which  boded  no  good 
to  him  who  had  provoked  it.  After  the  brief 
glance  which  she  had  given  the  doctor  as  her  un- 
cle introduced  her  to  him,  all  her  attention  was 
bestowed  upon  Bertie,  whose  clinging  arms  she 
found  hard  to  unloose  when  she  would  have  placed 
him  in  his  chair. 

Being  something  of  an  adept  in  human  nature, 
the  doctor  interpreted  aright  the  glance  of  half- 
scornful  indifference  on  the  bright,  piquant  face 
which  met  his  for  a  moment ;  and  he  would  per- 
haps have  thought  no  more  about  it,  since  it  was 


A    PEEP    AT    NEWBURY    PARSONAGE.  15 

not  his  habit  to  court  the  favor  or  smiles  of 
women  ;  but  for  certain  reasons  he  determined 
to  be  friends  with  Jessie  Norberry,  even  though 
she  might  not  herself  have  so  ordained. 

The  conversation  during  the  meal  turned  en- 
tirely upon  the  event  of  the  evening,  and  Jessie 
happily  found  herself  left  out  of  it,  while  her 
uncle  and  the  doctor  discussed  details. 

On  rising  from  the  table  Jessie  thought  to  es- 
cape at  once  from  the  room,  and  the  notice  of 
their  visitor;  but  she  found  herself  unable  to 
resist  Bertie's  appeal  that  he  should  go  too,  and 
before  she  had  freed  the  child  from  his  chair,  the 
doctor  came  over  to  her  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  it  was  Allan  Norberry's 
daughter  who  welcomed  me  this  afternoon,"  he 
said,  as  if  deprecating  her  pardon  for  his  igno- 
rance. "  Your  father,  Miss  Jessie,  was  my  kind- 
est and  best  friend.  His  daughter  will  not  refuse 
me  her  trust  and  confidence  ? " 

A  pair  of  soft  brown  eyes  were  quickly  lifted 
to  the  doctor's  face,  and  a  sweet,  tremulous  voice 
s^aid : 

"  I  beg  pardon.  I  did  not  know  you  were  papa's 
friend.  To  have  been  his  friend  is  the  surest 


16  A    PEEP    AT    NEWBURY    PARSONAGE. 

passport  to  his  daughter's  favor. '\  Jessie  did  not 
notice  that  her  aunt  had  quietly  taken  Bertie 
away,  as  with  regained  self-possession  she  added,  — 
"  I  am  always  happy  to  meet  any  one  who  knew 
papa;  for  I  remember  so  little  of  him  myself." 
A  few  moments  later  she  was  listening  with  rapt 
attention  to  their  visitor's  account  of  his  first 
meeting  with  her  father. 

"It  was  in  the  fall  of  18 — ;  I  remember  the 
day  perfectly :  fifteen  years  ago,  though  it  does 
not  seem  so  long  as  that,"  said  the  doctor  thought- 
fully. 

"  I  had  gone  abroad  to  continue  my  studies  after 
completing  my  university  course,  and  among  other 
letters  of  introduction  given  me  by  friends  at 
home,  was  one  to  your  father.  I  met  him  at 
Brunn,  and  we  were  together  on  the  Continent 
four  months.  He  was  then  compiling  his  great 
historical  work,  and  I  had  a  good  opportunity  to 
learn  something  of  his  literary  methods,  as  well 
as  the  extent  of  his  researches.  Nothing  seemed 
to  escape  his  observation,  and  his  clear  insight 
and  mental  grasp  of  every  subject  to  which  he 
gave  his  thought,  made  him  a  royal  companion 
and  friend. 


A    PEEP    AT    NEWBURY    PARSONAGE.  1 7 

"  The  few  months  I  spent  with  Allan  Norberry 
gave  my  mind  its  greatest  stimulus,  and  whatever 
I  have  accomplished  since,  I  owe  in  a  large  meas- 
ure to  his  advice  and  encouragement.  It  was  just 
at  that  time  in  my  life  when  the  temptation  was 
great  to  throw  off  a  studious  habit,  and  find  in 
travel  only  the  change  and  amusement  to  which  a 
thoroughly  indolent  temperament  exposed  me. 

"  So  you  see,  Miss  Jessie,  I  have  good  reason  to 
remember  such  a  friend,  and  to  find  pleasure  in 
meeting  his  daughter,  who,  for  her  honored  father's 
sake,  must  hold  a  high  place  in  my  regard." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  and  I  shall  never  forget 
that  you  were  papa's  friend.  I  am  constantly 
meeting  people  who  seem  to  have  known  him  bet- 
ter than  I,  his  child,  did,"  was  Jessie's  naive  reply. 
At  this  moment  her  uncle  entered  the  room,  and 
their  conversation  was  interrupted. 

Jessie  had  lost  her  mother  when  a  mere  babe, 
and  her  father's  profession  had  kept  him  most  of 
the  time  abroad.  She  had  now  and  then  caught 
brief  glimpses  of  him  when  his  work  had  brought 
him  home,  but  so  seldom  and  short  had  these 
visits  been  as  hardly  to  establish  a  connection  in 
her  childish  mind. 


1 8  A    PEEP   AT    NEWBURY    PARSONAGE. 

"Why  was  Fate  so  cruel  as  to  rob  me  of  my 
father  before  I  learned  to  know  him  ? "  had  been 
her  lament  for  the  last  three  years.  That  she  had 
not  really  known  him  she  first  realized  when  the 
news  of  his  death  reached  her.  And  now  it  was 
not  only  his  loss  that  she  mourned,  but  the  years 
which  had  parted  them. 

The  lecture  delivered  by  Doctor  Forney  before 
the  Newbury  Lyceum  was  long  remembered  by 
those  who  heard  it.  The  speaker's  graceful  oratory 
and  polished  rhetoric  probably  added  not  a  little  to 
its  effect  upon  his  audience  ;  but  his  theme  had  been 
happily  chosen,  and  in  paying  his  own  tribute  to 
"The  men  whom  our  country  should  honor,"  the 
doctor  proved  that  though  he  might  not  be  en- 
tirely destitute  of  the  egotism  natural  to  one  so 
popular  and  petted  as  himself,  he  could  still  appre- 
ciate the  virtues  and  talents  of  others. 

The  graceful  and  tender  tribute  that  night  pub- 
licly paid  her  father's  memory,  Jessie  Norberry 
would  never  forget ;  nor  would  she  ever  again 
think  otherwise  than  kindly  of  the  man  who  held 
him  in  such  grateful  remembrance. 

In  walking  home  that  evening  through  the  elm- 
shaded  streets  of  old  Newbury  with  the  doctor  for 


A    PEEP    AT    NEWBURY    PARSONAGE.  1 9 

her  escort,  Jessie  was  moved  to  tell  him  what  a 
rare  intellectual  treat  his  lecture  had  been  to  her- 
self, and  to  thank  him  for  the  kind  and  apprecia- 
tive words  he  had  spoken  of  her  dead  father. 

"  I  wish  I  could  make  you  understand,  Miss  Jes- 
sie, what  an  inspiration  his  grand,  noble  character 
was  to  me,"  the  doctor  returned,  and  then  was 
silent. 

After  this  neither  spoke  for  several  moments  ; 
Jessie  could  not  trust  herself  to  do  so,  and  the 
doctor  seemed  absorbed  in  thought. 

When  the  silence  was  broken  between  them  it 
was  by  his  asking  how  long  she  had  been  living  in 
Newbury. 

"  Since  I  left  school  two  years  ago,"  was  Jessie's 
brief  rejoinder.  She  was  hoping  that  the  doctor 
would  go  on  to  particularize  in  regard  to  her 
father's  work ;  for  anything  connected  with  this 
subject  had  a  rare  fascination  for  her ;  but  he  did 
not,  and  presently  the  conversation  drifted  into  a 
different  channel. 

The  doctor  proved  himself  to  be  well  up  in  the 
annals  of  the  historic  old  town,  and  his  evident 
interest  in  it  prompted  Jessie  to  telling  him  inci- 
dents both  humorous  and  pathetic,  of  its  inhabi- 


2O  A    PEEP    AT    NEWBURY    PARSONAGE. 

tants,  till  she  forgot  that  her  companion  was  the 
august  Doctor  Forney,  and  found  herself  talking 
with  him  quite  as  if  he  were  an  old  friend. 

"  Aunty  was  right :  '  First  impressions  are  not 
always  reliable,'  and  I  will  not  be  so  hasty  in  judg- 
ing any  one  again,"  was  her  thought  as  she  laid 
her  head  upon  her  pillow  that  night,  feeling  her- 
self richer  in  the  friendship  of  the  man  whom  a 
few  hours  before  she  had  (in  thought,  at  least) 
dubbed  a  selfish  egotist. 


CHAPTER   II. 

JESSIE    IN    BOSTON. 

BOSTON  COMMON  was  in  all  the  glory  of 
its  October  coloring  a  few  weeks  later, 
when  Jessie  found  herself,  one  bright  morning,  on 
the  familiar  mall  which  she  had  traversed  daily  for 
a  number  of  years  on  her  way  to  and  from  school. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  same  nursemaids  and  babies 
were  out  for  their  airing,  and  the  identical  boys 
tearing  down  the  mall  with  a  "  Hip,  hurrah  !  "  as  in 
the  old  days.  There  at  least  was  the  very  same 
apple  woman  where  she  had  used  to  stop,  and  for 
her  pennies  pick  the  reddest  fruit  on  the  old 
woman's  stand,  and  whom  she  now  passed  with  a 
cheery  "  Good-morning  !  " 

"  Everybody  is  in  just  the  same  old  hurry. 
One's  blood  does  circulate  faster  where  there  is  so 
much  going  on,"  was  her  thought,  as  the  charm  of 
the  great  stirring  city  made  itself  felt  in  her 
pulses  and  her  quickened  step. 

"  Good-morning,  Miss   Jessie !      This  is  a  sur- 


22  JESSIE    IN    BOSTON. 

prise."  It  was  Doctor  Forney  who  spoke,  his  face 
alight  with  pleasure  as  he  grasped  the  hand  Jessie 
extended  to  him. 

"  I  am  ever  so  glad  to  meet  you,  Doctor,  for  I 
have  hardly  seen  a  familiar  face  this  morning,"  was 
the  frank  return. 

While  relieving  her  of  her  hand-bag  and  parcels, 
the  doctor  inquired  for  her  Newbury  friends,  and 
how  long  she  had  been  in  the  city. 

"  I  came  up  yesterday,  on  a  shopping  trip,  and 
have  been  running  about  all  the  morning  trying  to 
match  some  lace  for  Aunt  Helen.  I  expect  she 
will  be  in  despair  when  I  tell  her  that  Brussels 
point  is  passe,  and  that  thread  only  is  au  fait." 
Despite  her  gay  tone,  a  shade  of  annoyance  crossed 
Jessie's  face  when  she  remembered  her  non-success 
in  this  errand. 

"  If  you  are  trying  to  find  old  lace  you  should 
have  my  sister  Harriet  with  you  ;  she  has  a  won- 
derful faculty  for  unearthing  all  such  relics,"  was 
the  doctor's  smiling  rejoinder. 

"  I  wish  she  had  been  with  me  this  morning, 
then,  to  at  least  have  defended  my  poor  sample 
from  the  contemptuous  glances  it  has  met  from 
shopmen.  One  would  think  that  old-fashioned 


JESSIE    IN    BOSTON.  23 

lace  had  been  tabooed  by  good  society,"  said  Jes- 
sie, with  piquant  earnestness. 

The  doctor  laughed,  and  suggested  that  perhaps 
her  aunt  might  find  existence  possible  without 
Brussels  point,  inquired  for  that  lady's  health, 
spoke  of  his  pleasant  visit  at  the  parsonage,  and 
then  casually  mentioned  the  fact  that  he  was  on 
his  way  to  Music  Hall  to  procure  tickets  for  the 
concert  that  afternoon. 

"Why,  that  is  just  where  I  am  going,  but  I  am 
sure  I  should  have  forgotten  it.  The  box  office 
was  not  open  when  I  came  by  this  morning,  so  I 
left  buying  my  tickets  till  I  got  through  with  my 
shopping.  I  am  visiting  my  Aunt  Wilson,"  Jessie 
continued,  "and  she  is  to  go  with  me  to  the  con- 
cert, so  I  hope  I  have  not  put  off  getting  my 
tickets  till  the  best  seats  are  all  gone.  Aunty's 
lace  has  driven  everything  else  out  of  my  mind." 

"No,  I  think  we  shall  be  in  season,"  returned 
the  doctor ;  but  they  quickened  their  pace,  which 
had  been  a  leisurely  one. 

The  doctor  was  right,  for  on  making  application 
for  tickets  he  secured  four  seats  in  the  best  part 
of  the  house,  congratulating  himself  on  being  able 
to  get  them  together,  as  he  wished  Jessie  to  meet 


24  JESSIE    IN    BOSTON. 

his  sister,  who  would  be  with  him.  This  settled, 
the  doctor  proposed  that  Jessie  should  go  with 
him  to  see  a  picture  which  was  then  on  exhibition 
at  one  of  the  studios.  "  It  is  one  of  the  greatest 
pictures  of  the  day,  and  you  must  not  miss  seeing 
it,"  he  said,  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  connoisseur 
in  such  matters. 

When  they  reached  the  gallery,  it  so  happened 
that  the  artist  himself  was  there,  and  as  he  was  a 
personal  friend  of  the  doctor's  Jessie  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  an  introduction  to  one  of  the  famous  men 
of  the  day,  as  well  as  the  satisfaction  of  hearing 
from  his  own  lips  such  a  description  of  his  picture 
as  only  an  artist  can  give. 

"  I  have  a  fancy,"  said  Jessie,  when  she  and  the 
doctor  had  again  reached  the  street,  "  that  a  great 
picture,  or  any  other  great  work,  has  been  the 
growth  of  generations.  I  am  sure  that  Mr.  J.'s 
ancestors  must  have  been  painters,  even  though 
they  may  not  have  touched  brush  to  canvas  ;  their 
love  and  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  has  at  last 
found  a  full  expression  through  him." 

"  You  may  be  right,  Miss  Jessie,  and  if  so  we 
probably  jostle  in  our  every -day  walk  more  than 
one  'mute  inglorious  Milton,'  whose  songs  are 


JESSIE    IN    BOSTON.  25 

growing  for  posterity,  and  whose  lips  in  the  ful- 
ness of  time  will  be  unsealed.  Not  an  unpleasant 
thought,"  continued  the  doctor,  "since  it  holds 
out  the  hope  of  immortality  to  all  creative,  aspir- 
ing souls." 

"  Yes ;  and  that  there  are  so  many  such  souls 
who  spend  the  brief  space  allotted  them  here 
striving  to  work  out  their  high  ideals,  and  who 
never  —  in  Time,  at  least — see  their  conceptions 
fulfilled,  is,  I  think,  but  a  proof  that  my  theory 
is  correct,"  returned  Jessie,  "  else  why  is  it  that 
the  longing  to  achieve  something  so  possesses 
humanity  ? " 

The  doctor  felt  he  had  never  realized  the  beauty 
and  pathos  of  brown  eyes  until  he  met  the  pair 
now  raised  to  his  face. 

"  May  not  the  answer  to  your  question  lie  in  the 
fact  that  humanity  is  made  in  the  likeness  of  the 
great  Creator?"  he  asked,  with  a  kindly  smile. 

"Yes;  it  must  be  so,"  was  the  thoughtful  re- 
sponse. "And  perfect  as  He  made  His  work,  so 
that  He  Himself  said  that  it  was  good,  He  has  still 
left  something  for  His  children  to  achieve." 

A  moment  later  they  had  reached  Mrs.  Wilson's 
door,  where  the  doctor  took  leave  of  Jessie,  de- 


26  JESSIE    IN    BOSTON. 

clining  her  invitation  to  go  in  and  see  her  aunt,  as 
he  had  the  prospect  of  so  soon  making  that  lady's 
acquaintance. 

"A  sweet,  interesting  girl,  worthy  to  be  her 
father's  daughter,"  was  the  doctor's  thought  as  he 
kept  on  his  way. 

Mrs.  Wilson  was  Jessie's  sole  living  relative  on 
the  maternal  side,  and  the  last  three  years,  while 
in  Boston  attending  school,  she  had  lived  with  this 
aunt ;  so  the  old  West  End  house  was  quite  as 
much  home  to  her  as  the  parsonage  at  Newbury. 

Mrs.  Wilson,  who  was  a  widow,  and  a  confirmed 
invalid,  had  become  very  much  attached  to  her 
bright,  lively  niece,  and  would  have  gladly  kept 
her  after  she  left  school ;  but  her  uncle,  John  Nor- 
berry,  who  was  her  guardian,  had  not  so  willed  ; 
for  the  constant  society  of  a  sick  and  nervous  wo- 
man, he  felt  was  unsuited  to  a  nature  as  sensitive 
as  Jessie's,  so,  on  leaving  school,  she  had  gone  to 
Newbury. 

This  change  had  been  a  welcome  one  to  the 
girl,  for  during  certain  vacations  spent  at  the  par- 
sonage she  had  become  very  fond  of  her  gentle 
Aunt  Kitty,  and  the  wide-awake  cousins,  Allan  and 
Roger,  who  made  life  at  the  parsonage  a  perpetual 


JESSIE    IN    BOSTON.  2/ 

holiday  to  her  after  her  Aunt  Wilson's  quiet, 
stately  home. 

But  we  left  Jessie  standing  at  this  relative's 
door.  She  had  that  morning,  greatly  to  her  sur- 
prise, succeeded  in  gaining  her  aunt's  consent  to 
attend,,  the  concert,  for  which  she  had  since  ob- 
tained tickets.  But  Mrs.  Wilson  had  made  the 
proviso  that  she  should  not  stay  through  the  per- 
formance if  she  found  it  too  much  for  her. 

"  Oh  !  but  you  will  not,  Aunty  ;  who. ever  heard 
of  one  of  Thomas'  concerts  being  too  much  ?  That 
is  not  an  ill  to  which  either  flesh  or  spirit  is  heir," 
had  been  the  girl's  cheery  rejoinder. 

But  on  reaching  home  Jessie  found  her  aunt  not 
a  little  depressed  in  contemplation  of  what  she 
had  promised  to  undergo. 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  am  to  stand  the  fatigue : 
I  was  certainly  crazy  to  think  of  such  a  thing  as 
going  to  a  concert.  Here  I  have  not  been  out  of 
the  house  for  weeks,  and  I  don't  know  when  I 
have  sat  up  three  hours  at  a  time,"  she  said,  with 
the  querulousness  natural  to  one  weakened  by  in- 
action and  confinement,  rather  than  disease. 

It  took  all  Jessie's  powers  of  persuasion  to  keep 
her  aunt  up  to  her  promise,  for  her  weak  nerves 


28  JESSIE    IN    BOSTON. 

proved  unequal  even  to  the  work  of  dressing,  and 
when  the  carriage  was  announced  she  declared  her- 
self unable  to  sit  up.  But  nevertheless  two  hours 
later  she  was  leaving  Music  Hall  with  the  crowd, 
apparently  none  the  worse  for  the  further  fatigue 
she  had  endured.  , 

Jessie  had  found  the  doctor's  sister  a  delight- 
fully bright  and  cheery  little  body.  With  much 
womanly  grace  and  sweetness,  there  was  in  Har- 
riet Forney  the  simplicity  and  freshness  of  the 
child.  While  she  and  Jessie  were  making  rapid 
strides  toward  an  acquaintance  in  their  exit  from 
the  hall,  the  doctor  was  piloting  Mrs.  Wilson 
through  the  crowd  to  her  carriage. 

"  I  would  like  to  know  who  that  man  is.  I  saw 
him  in  the  hall  this  afternoon ;  his  face  is  familiar, 
but  I  cannot  place  him."  Doctor  Forney  was 
standing  beside  the  carriage,  talking  with  Jessie, 
while  waiting  for  her  aunt  to  take  leave  of  friends 
who  had  pressed  forward  to  speak  with  her. 

Jessie  turned  as  the  doctor  spoke,  and  saw  a 
gentleman  who  was  well  known  to  her,  coming 
down  Winter  Place ;  the  next  moment  he  had  also 
seen  her,  and,  with  a  courteous  gesture,  raised  his 
hat. 


JESSIE    IN    BOSTON.  2Q 

"Ah!  an  acquaintance?"  the  doctor  said,  hav- 
ing seen  the  recognition. 

"  Yes ;  he  is  one  of  our  Newbury  men,  Mr.  Car- 
rol—  Doctor  Melville  Carrol's  son,"  was  Jessie's 
reply. 

"  So  that  is  Doctor  Carrol's  son  ?  He  is  a  splen- 
did specimen  of  a  man,  physically,"  was  the  doc- 
tor's response,  following  with  his  eye  the  receding 
figure,  perfect  in  proportion,  and  towering  head 
and  shoulders  above  the  crowd. 

"  Then  Doctor  Carrol  is  living  in  Newbury  ? 
He  was  quite  a  famous  surgeon  at  one  time. 
What  have  I  heard  about  him  of  late?  Was  it 
that  his  health  had  broken  down  ? " 

"Quite  likely;  for  that  is  the  case,"  returned 
Jessie.  "  He  was  obliged  to  give  up  practice  on 
that  account,  I  believe." 

"Your  beautiful  old  town  must  afford  him  a 
delightful  haven  of  refuge,"  was  the  doctor's  next 
comment. 

"  I  am  afraid  he  has  hardly  found  it  that,"  said 
Jessie,  and  then  checked  herself,  for  the  words  had 
unwittingly  slipped  from  her  tongue.  Seeing  that 
her  companion  looked  surprised,  she  added  in  ex- 
planation, — 


3O  JESSIE    IN    BOSTON. 

"Doctor  Carrol's  mind  has  seemed  to  be  affected 
of  late,  and  his  family  are  very  anxious  about  him, 
though  I  think  he  must  be  better  since  his  son  is 
here ;  for  Milton  Carrol  seldom  leaves  his  father." 

While  Jessie  was  speaking,  Miss  Forney,  who 
had  a  moment  before  stepped  into  a  store  to  ex- 
ecute some  small  commission,  rejoined  them,  and 
rallied  her  brother  upon  his  extended  adieus. 

The  doctor  had  not  noticed  that  Mrs.  Wilson's 
friends  had  left  her,  but  he  now  gave  the  order  to 
her  coachman,  and,  with  a  cordial  handshake,  was 
gone. 

"  I  supposed  Doctor  Forney  was  an  older  man," 
was  Mrs.  Wilson's  comment  as  their  carriage 
turned  into  Tremont  Street,  and  she  caught  the 
last  glimpse  of  the  man  who  had  shown  her  so 
much  courteous  attention  that  afternoon.  Then  it 
first  occurred  to  her  to  ask  her  niece  where  she 
had  made  the  doctor's  acquaintance. 

On  learning  that  she  had  met  him  in  her  uncle's 
house,  Mrs.  Wilson  evidently  felt  it  was  incumbent 
upon  her  to  further  an  acquaintance  which  had  the 
sanction  of  the  girl's  guardian,  for  she  said  plain- 
tively, — 

"  I   suppose   I   ought  to  invite    him    to   dinner 


JESSIE    IN    BOSTON.  3! 

while  you  are  here  ;  but  I  don't  see  how  I  am  to  do 
it  with  my  wretched  health." 

If  her  aunt  had  at  the  moment  proposed  a  trip 
to  Europe,  Jessie  would  not  have  been  much  more 
surprised  than  to  hear  her  talk  of  inviting  to  din- 
ner a  comparative  stranger ;  for  it  was  very  long 
since  old  friends,  even,  had  been  entertained  in 
this  way  in  the  Wilson  mansion. 

"What  made  you  think  of  that,  Aunty?  You 
are  not  called  upon  to  do  anything  of  the  kind ; 
besides,  I  fancy  that  the  doctor  is  not  a  diner-out. 
He  strikes  me  as  a  man  who  would  hold  in  con- 
tempt the  small  conventionalities  of  fashionable 
life." 

"  He  does  not  strike  me  in  any  such  way.  The 
very  cut  of  his  coat  proclaims  him  a  devotee  to 
fashion,  rather  than  a  despiser  of  it,"  returned  her 
aunt,  regarding  her  critically.  She  was  wondering 
whether  this  seeming  indifference  on  Jessie's  part 
was  real  or  assumed.  Did  she  indeed  feel  no  in- 
terest in  the  distinguished  man  whose  polite  atten- 
tions had  so  lately  made  her  the  cynosure  of  all 
eyes  ? 

"  Oh  !  his  tailor  only  is  responsible  for  the  cut  of 
his  coat.  I  doubt  if  Doctor  Forney  troubles  him- 


32  JESSIE    IN    BOSTON. 

self  much  about  such  prosaic  matters,"  was  Jessie's 
laughing  rejoinder. 

When  her  aunt  spoke,  the  girl's  thoughts  had 
been  with  the  doctor's  sister,  whose  companionship 
she  coveted  for  the  invalid.  If  she  could  have  the 
society  of  a  person  like  Harriet  Forney  it  would  be 
better  than  any  tonic  to  her  weakened  nerves. 

"  I  wish  you  and  Miss  Forney  could  become 
better  friends,  Aunty.  She  is  such  a  bright, 
cheery  person.  I  cannot  fancy  her  ever  dull  or 
blue.  I  don't  wonder  the  doctor  calls  her  his  sun- 
beam. With  such  a  sister  to  keep  his  home,  it  is 
no  wonder  he  never  married." 

"You  speak  as  if  he  were  an  old  man.  He  can 
scarcely  have  seen  thirty-five,"  and  Mrs.  Wilson 
added,  in  the  querulous  tone  which  had  become 
habitual  to  her,  "  as  to  his  sister,  I  don't  see  that 
she  deserves  very  great  praise  for  being  cheerful. 
Who  would  not  be  so  with  her  perfect  health?" 

Jessie  had  not  lived  for  months  in  her  aunt's 
house  without  learning  to  understand  and  humor 
her  moods,  and  she  dropped  the  subject  here. 

"  I  haven't  seen  you  look  so  bright  for  a  long 
time  as  you  have  this  afternoon,  Aunty;  perhaps 
you  shut  yourself  up  too  much.  It  was  not  so 


JESSIE    IN    BOSTON.  33 

hard  as  you  thought,  after  all,  was  it  ?     At  least, 
you  don't  feel  any  worse  ?" 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  it,  child.  I 
haven't  been  free  from  pain  a  moment  this  after- 
noon. Of  course  I  felt  obliged  to  keep  up,"  was 
the  invalid's  plaintive  response,  as  she  sank  wearily 
back  among  the  carriage  cushions,  apparently  re- 
membering for  the  first  time  her  invalid  condition ; 
and  Jessie  looking  out  of  the  window,  wondered  if 
an  earthquake  or  any  other  convulsion  of  nature 
could  shake  her  aunt's  conviction  that  it  was  in- 
cumbent upon  her  to  always  sustain  this  character. 


CHAPTER   III. 

A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE. 

ELM  BROOK  FARM  was  the  home  of  the 
Carrols.  The  place  took  its  name  from 
the  noble  elm-trees  which  here  shaded  for  nearly 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  the  public  highway ;  and  also 
from  the  brook  which  ran  directly  through  the 
place. 

The  house  was  a  large  two-story  brick  one,  with 
an  ell  and  ample  outbuildings,  while  a  wide  sweep 
of  lawn  in  front  graced  the  approach  from  the 
street. 

Five  years  before  our  story  opens  this  place 
had  been  for  sale ;  but  it  was  scarcely  a  month  in 
the  market  when  it  was  generally  known  that  it 
had  been  bought  by  a  retired  physician,  and  a  few 
weeks  later  Doctor  Carrol  and  his  family  came  to 
Newbury,  strangers  to  every  one  in  the  town,  and 
took  possession  of  the  house  and  acres  of  Elm 
Brook  Farm. 

It  was  quite  apparent  from  the  first  that  Doctor 
34 


A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE.  35 

Carrol  did  not  care  to  meet  his  neighbors,  and  the 
impression  had  soon  gone  abroad  that  his  object  in 
coming  to  Newbury  was  to  live  a  quiet,  secluded 
life.  Doubtless  his  silent,  preoccupied  manner  had 
given  rise  to  this  impression  ;  for  he  invariably 
ignored  or  failed  to  hear  the  neighborly  salutation 
which  had  at  first  been  accorded  him  ;  and  when 
he  had  been  two  years  in  Newbury  he  had  scarcely 
spoken  with  a  dozen  persons. 

As  Elm  Brook  Farm  came  within  the  limits  of 
his  parish,  John  Norberry  took  occasion  soon  to  call 
upon  the  Carrols,  notwithstanding  that  they  had 
not  shown  themselves  at  church,  and  that  reports 
of  the  doctor's  exclusiveness  and  taciturnity  had 
reached  him. 

The  minister  had  been  unfortunate  in  timing 
his  first  call,  for  the  doctor  happened  to  be  out. 
Mrs.  Carrol  had  received  him  very  cordially,  how- 
ever, and  expressed  regret  that  her  husband  was 
not  at  home.  She  spoke  of  his  disposition  to 
avoid  strangers,  a  tendency  which  she  said  he  had 
seemed  to  develop  since  coming  to  Newbury. 

The  doctor's  wife  was  a  lady  of  fine  presence, 
and  evidently  possessed  no  small  degree  of  culture ; 
but  there  was  a  certain  reserve  of  speech  and 


36  A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE. 

manner  that  seemed  to  preclude  any  degree  of 
familiarity. 

On  his  second  call  John  Norberry  again  failed 
to  see  the  doctor,  who  this  time  was  at  home,  but 
excused  himself  on  the  plea  of  not  being  well. 
Mrs.  Carrol  apologized  when  delivering  her  hus- 
band's message  to  the  minister.  He  seemed  to 
shrink  from  seeing  all  visitors,  a  fact  which  she 
deplored,  but  attributed  entirely  to  his  state  of 
health. 

But  notwithstanding  that  five  years  had  now 
passed,  and  the  minister  had  frequently  met  Doc- 
tor Carrol  in  his  home,  he  did  not  feel  that  he 
was  really  acquainted  with  him.  With  the  doctor's 
son,  however,  it  had  been  quite  different,  for,  be- 
fore many  months  had  passed,  Milton  Carrol  and 
the  minister  had  become  the  best  of  friends.  But 
while  the  young  man  talked  with  him  freely  on 
every  other  subject,  John  Norberry  could  not  fail 
to  notice  his  evident  reticence  in  speaking  of  his 
father. 

When  Milton  Carrol  first  came  to  Newbury, 
Rumor  said  he  was  just  fresh  from  college,  where 
he  had  received  well-earned  laurels ;  but  certain 
it  was  he  had  at  once  taken  hold  of  farming  in  such 


A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE.  37 

an  earnest  and  practical  way  as  showed  a  decided 
taste  for  it,  if  not  a  previous  knowledge. 

The  young  farmers  in  his  neighborhood  had  for 
a  time  held  aloof  from  him,  jeering  at  his  fine 
broadcloth,  and  air  of  superiority,  while  more  than 
one  remark  came  to  his  ears  calculated  to  annoy 
him  ;  but  he  had  gone  his  way  apparently  unruffled, 
treating  every  one  courteously,  though  seeking  in- 
timacy with  none. 

The  purchase  of  Elm  Brook  Farm  had  been 
made  in  the  fall,  and  that  first  winter  Milton  Car- 
rol had  taken  frequent  trips  away  from  Newbury, 
a  fact  which  had  led  his  neighbors  to  suppose  him 
fickle,  and  little  calculated  for  the  life  of  a  farmer. 
But  when  the  spring  opened,  greatly  to  their  sur- 
prise, he  had  donned  working  clothes,  and  gone 
into  the  field  with  his  men,  where  he  soon  proved 
that  he  could  lend  a  hand,  as  well  as  direct  his 
work.  Now  it  was  generally  conceded  by  his 
townsmen  that  there  was  not  a  more  prosperous, 
or  better  managed  farm  in  the  county,  than  Elm 
Brook. 

But  in  the  meantime  Rumor  had  been  busy 
with  the  doctor's  fair  name,  and  many  people  in 
Newbury  now  believed  that  he  had  come  to  this 


38  A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE. 

quiet  town  to  hide  disgrace.  In  housecleaning 
time  Mrs.  Carrol  had  been  in  the  habit  of  hiring, 
to  help  their  old  servant,  a  woman  who  worked 
in  this  way  in  many  of  the  families  in  Newbury. 
Unlike  some  of  her  class,  Mary  Manson's  veracity 
was  unquestioned ;  so  when  she  affirmed  that  all 
was  not  as  it  should  be  with  the  doctor,  and  that, 
to  her  knowing,  his  family  were  fearful  he  would 
divulge  something  which  seemed  at  times  to  trou- 
ble him  greatly,  those  who  listened  to  her  felt  she 
had  good  ground  for  making  such  a  statement. 

It  was  singular  how  soon  suspicion  was  fanned 
into  a  flame,  and  how  ready  people  were  to  say 
that  the  doctor  had  always  seemed  to  them  like 
a  man  who  was  bearing  the  burden  of  an  uncon- 
fessed  crime.  Now  a  reason  was  found  for  his 
shunning  society,  and  secluding  himself  as  he  had 
ever  since  coming  among  them. 

He  had  broken  some  law  of  God  and  man,  and 
was  hiding  himself  among  strangers,  in  the  vain 
hope  that  his  sin  would  not  find  him  out. 

When  these  accusations  reached  Milton  Carrol's 
ears,  as  they  finally  did,  he  was  very  much  dis- 
turbed, but  insisted  that  they  could  only  have 
arisen  from  words  which  his  father  himself  had 


A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE.  39 

dropped :  for,  since  his  mind  had  been  affected,  he 
had  entertained  strange,  sad  fancies  about  himself. 

It  was  something  like  a  month  after  Jessie's  visit 
to  the  city  that  she  one  morning  informed  her 
Aunt  Kitty  of  her  intention  to  go  to  Newbury 
Hill  Farm  to  spend  the  day.  This  was  at  the 
other  end  of  the  town,  and  fully  three  miles  from 
the  parsonage. 

Aunt  Judith  Lucas,  owner  and  manager  of  these 
acres,  was  very  fond  of  the  minister's  bright,  win- 
some niece  who  always  brought  her  a  breeze  from 
the  outside  world,  and  the  good  woman's  odorous 
pantries  and  teeming  orchards  v/ere  always  at  Jes- 
sie's disposal. 

"Aunt  Judith  said  she  would  have  some  grape 
juice  for  me  if  I  came  this  month,  and  I  have 
promised  Mary  Allen  a  bottle  for  her  mother. 
Besides,  I  want  to  see  Aunt  Judith,  who  will  won- 
der what  has  become  of  me." 

"  But  how  will  you  get  to  Newbury  Hill,  child  ? 
Your  uncle  has  gone  to  Westfield  with  the  buggy, 
and  will  not  be  back  before  night,"  was  her  Aunt 
Kitty's  reply. 

"  Oh  !  I  shall  walk.  It  will  be  just  fun,  such  a 
clear,  bracing  day.  But  about  getting  home  —  I 


4O  A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE. 

had  not  thought  of  that."  It  had  just  occurred  to 
Jessie  that  there  would  not  be  so  much  fun  walking 
back  laden  with  the  spoils  she  expected  to  bring 
with  her. 

"  If  Uncle  John  cannot  come  for  me  to-night,  all 
is  I  shall  have  to  stay  till  morning,  when  James 
will  be  coming  to  town,  and  will  bring  me,"  Jessie 
added,  after  a  moment's  reflection. 

"  Had  you  better  try  to  walk  ?  "  was  her  aunt's 
gentle  remonstrance.  "  The  heavy  rains  we  have 
had  lately  are  sure  to  have  washed  out  the  road  in 
Plover's  Gully.  To-morrow  you  can  have  the 
buggy." 

"  I  wanted  to  be  at  home  to-morrow,  to  help  you 
entertain  Miss  Molly  Westcott  and  her  mother." 

"  O,  yes  !  I  had  forgotten  they  were  coming. 
Mrs.  Westcott  is  sure  to  feel  slighted  if  neither 
you  nor  Aunt  Helen  are  visible." 

"  Well,  Aunty  is  sure  not  to  show  herself  down- 
stairs to-morrow,"  replied  Jessie  ;  "  so  I  had  better 
go  to  Newbury  Hill  to-day.  I  really  ought  not  to 
put  off  my  visit  any  longer." 

Half  an  hour  later  Jessie  was  equipped  for  her 
walk  in  a  dark,  close-fitting  suit,  and  a  pair  of  stout 
boots  whose  soles,  she  jestingly  affirmed,  would 


A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE.  4! 

allow  her  to  wade  dry  shod  through  all  the  brooks 
in  town. 

But  Jessie  was  to  prove  that  it  would  have  been 
wiser  to  have  taken  her  aunt's  advice,  for  on  reach- 
ing Plover's  Gully,  a  low-lying  part  of  the  road 
which  crossed  a  wide  piece  of  marsh,  she  found 
that  lady's  prediction  fully  verified. 

"  I  did  not  dream  it  would  be  like  this  ;  I  shall 
have  to  go  back,  after  all."  It  was  not  till  she 
found  herself  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  at  every 
step,  that  she  came  to  this  sensible  resolve,  seeing 
that  it  would  be  the  veriest  folly  to  venture  farther 
into  such  a  bog. 

So  intent  had  she  been  on  her  own  predicament 
as  not  to  notice  that  it  was  shared  by  any  one  else, 
till,  raising  her  eyes,  she  saw  just  ahead  two  per- 
sons who  were  evidently  in  a  worse  plight  than 
herself.  She  was  presently  sure  that  one  of  them 
could  be  no  other  than  Milton  Carrol  ;  but  what 
was  he  doing  ?  With  whom  was  he  struggling  ? 
Was  it  his  father  ?  Yes  ;  Jessie  could  now  hear 
the  old  man's  voice  : 

"  Let  me  go,  Milton.  Why  do  you  try  to  detain 
me  ?  I  am  not  mad,  as  you  think ;  but  conceal- 
ment is  killing  me." 


42  A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE. 

Should  she  try  to  go  to  them,  or  not  ?  Evi- 
dently the  doctor  was  having  one  of  the  bad  spells 
of  which  she  had  lately  heard,  when  his  family 
found  it  hard  to  control  him.  The  thought  that 
Milton  Carrol  might  be  annoyed  to  have  her  come 
upon  him  in  this  plight,  for  a  moment  made  her 
hesitate,  the  next,  she  determined  to  go  to  his 
assistance  ;  so,  putting  aside  all  regard  for  conse- 
quences to  herself,  she  was  presently  within  a  few 
feet  of  them. 

"  Can  I  help  you,  Mr.  Carrol  ?  "  she  called. 

Taken  entirely  by  surprise,  as  he  had  not  known 
that  any  one  was  near,  Milton  Carrol  turned,  re- 
leasing his  hold  of  his  father  as  he  did  so. 

"  O,  Miss  Jessie !  do  not  come  any  further, 
pray,"  he  cried,  realizing  the  sorry  condition  in 
which  she  might  presently  find  herself. 

"  The  mud  is  not  quite  so  deep  here  as  where 
you  are,"  she  called  back  in  reply,  as  if  she  saw 
only  the  fact  that  they  were  mired.  She  would 
give  him  a  chance  to  ask  her  help  at  least,  since 
she  could  go  for  aid  if  he  wished. 

The  sight  of  Jessie  venturing  into  this  slough  of 
despond  had  made  Milton  Carrol  for  a  moment 
lose  his  self-possession,  and  he  had  let  go  his  hold 


A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE.  43 

of  his  father,  who  took  instant  advantage  of  his 
freedom.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  mud  which 
clogged  his  feet,  the  doctor  would  probably  have 
gotten  away  ;  but  as  it  was,  his  son  had  him  again 
in  his  grasp  before  he  had  taken  the  second  step. 
Then  it  was  that  the  doctor  turned  and  made  a 
piteous  appeal  to  Jessie. 

"Help  me,  Miss  Jessie,  to  get  away  from  my 
son.  He  says  that  I  am  mad,  but  I  assure  you  I 
am  as  sane  as  yourself.  I  am  a  penitent  man,  and 
would  give  myself  up  to  justice,  for  I  am  a  mur- 
derer. Would  to  God  that  I  were  only  mad." 
The  old  man's  voice  had  risen  to  a  wail. 

"Where  do  you  want  to  go,  Doctor  Carrol?" 
Jessie  asked,  as  if  it  were  only  reasonable  his 
wishes  in  this  matter  should  be  regarded.  Per- 
haps it  was  the  way  she  asked  the  question  quite 
as  much  as  the  question  itself  which  had  such  a 
remarkable  effect  upon  the  doctor ;  for  the  tense 
lines  disappeared  instantly  from  his  face,  and  there 
was  nothing  in  his  voice  to  remind  one  of  the 
agony  of  passion  which  had  been  there  a  moment 
before,  when  he  answered,  — 

"  I  was  on  my  way  to  Boston,  for  I  must  go 
there  in  order  to  give  myself  up  to  justice." 


44  A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE. 

"  But  look,  Doctor  Carrol ;  see  how  muddy  your 
clothes  are!  Wouldn't  it  be  better  to  go  home 
and  change  them  first  ?  You  don't  want  to  be 
seen  in  Boston  in  such  a  plight  as  this,"  Jessie 
said,  pointing  out  to  him  the  splashes  of  mud 
which  disfigured  his  whole  person.  Happily,  she 
had  created  the  diversion  in  his  thoughts  which 
she  wished,  as  he  seemed  to  realize  the  force  of 
this  argument,  and  was  regarding  his  dress  with 
dismay. 

Seeing  the  advantage  she  had  gained,  Jessie 
was  quick  to  follow  it  up. 

"  I  was  on  my  way  to  Newbury  Hill,"  she  said, 
"  but  I  shall  have  to  go  home  and  wait  till  the 
walking  is  better."  And  then  a  happy  thought 
suggesting  itself, —  "  If  you  will  give  me  your  arm, 
Doctor,  I  think  together  we  shall  get  out  of  this 
bog  better  than  alone." 

A  few  moments  later,  no  one  meeting  the  two 
would  have  supposed  the  doctor  less  sane  than  his 
companion  ;  for  his  chivalrous  instinct  had  at  once 
responded  to  Jessie's  appeal,  and  he  was  presently 
helping  her  over  the  worst  places  in  the  road,  her 
safe  conduct  out  of  the  mud  seemingly  his  sole 
consideration. 


A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE.  45 

Milton  Carrol  had  been  struck  with  amazement 
at  the  girl's  coolness  and  courage  in  asking  his 
father  for  his  arm,  but  further  than  a  look  eloquent 
of  gratitude  on  his  part,  no  communication  had 
passed  between  them. 

His  first  feeling  had  been  one  of  discomfiture 
that  Jessie  Norberry  should  be  a  witness  of  his  un- 
fortunate position.  She  was  the  last  person  in  the 
town  whom  he  would  have  chosen  to  meet  just 
then,  or  to  whom  he  would  have  looked  for  assist- 
ance ;  for  he  had  often  heard  her  sallies  of  wit,  and 
knew  her  aptitude  for  seeing  the  ludicrous  side  of 
every  situation  ;  but  he  had  yet  to  learn  that  Jes- 
sie's mirth  was  never  turned  against  the  unfortu- 
nate. 

He  felt  now  that  her  kindness,  tact  and  good 
sense  had  on  this  occasion  at  least  saved  him  from 
a  painful  dilemma,  since  he  had  used  every  argu- 
ment he  could  think  of  to  win  his  father  from  his 
purpose,  and  when  Jessie  came  up  it  was  just  a 
contest  of  strength  between  them,  in  which  his 
muscles  could  not  have  much  longer  held  out 
against  the  force  born  of  frenzy. 

He  could  but  admire  the  graceful  tact  with  which 
Jessie  led  his  father's  mind  away  from  the  exciting 


46  A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE. 

subject,  and  then  with  lively  chat  and  jest  occupied 
and  amused  him. 

As  Milton  Carrol  listened  to  the  low  sweet 
voice  and  musical  laugh  which  had  in  it  Nature's 
own  echo,  he  realized  the  peculiar  charm  which 
this  girl  had  always  exercised  over  himself,  and  he 
no  longer  wondered  that  his  father  had  yielded  to 
the  witching  grace  which  he  had  found  so  captivat- 
ing. He  had  always  felt  that  she  was  different 
from  other  girls,  and  now  he  had  had  proof  of  it, 
he  thought ;  for  where  was  the  other  girl  of  his 
acquaintance  who  would  have  so  admirably  con- 
ducted herself  in  such  an  emergency  ? 

On  reaching  Elm  Brook  Farm  Jessie  tried  to  ex- 
cuse herself  from  going  in,  on  the  plea  that  she 
was  not  in  trim  to  make  a  call,  but  the  doctor 
insisted  upon  it.  He  evidently  was  not  disposed 
to  lose  her  companionship  because  he  had  got 
home,  and  as  symptoms  of  excitement  were  at 
once  apparent  in  manner  and  speech  when  he 
found  himself  likely  to  do  so,  Jessie  saw  it  would 
not  be  well  to  cross  him. 

Mrs.  Carrol  had  evidently  been  on  the  lookout 
for  her  husband,  for  she  met  them  at  the  door, 
and  seemed  greatly  relieved  at  the  apparently  pa- 


A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE.  47 

cific  condition  in  which  he  had  returned.  It  took 
her  but  a  moment  to  understand  the  situation, 
and  then  she  too  joined  her  entreaties  to  his  that 
Jessie  should  come  in.  Our  heroine  had  never 
been  at  Elm  Brook  Farm,  and  though  feeling  that 
a  call  now  was  most  inopportune  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, there  seemed  nothing  else  to  do  if 
she  would  not  provoke  a  return  of  the  nervous 
excitement  she  had  just  used  her  best  efforts  to 
subdue. 

Mrs.  Carrol  seemed  gratified  at  her  compliance, 
and  at  once  led  the  way  to  the  family  sitting-room, 
making  an  effort  to  appear  at  ease  ;  but  Jessie  had 
seen  the  glance  exchanged  between  mother  and 
son,  and  knew  that  the  wife's  anxiety  was  at  the 
moment  paramount  to  every  other  feeling. 

On  entering,  however,  the  girl's  wit  did  not 
desert  her,  for  no  sooner  was  the  doctor  safely 
within  the  house,  than  she  made  a  lively  charge 
upon  her  bemudded  boots,  gayly  asking  Mrs. 
Carrol  how  she  could  with  equanimity  receive  such 
dirty  people  into  her  house.  Then  seeing  the  doc- 
tor was  about  to  seat  himself,  she  became  suddenly 
concerned  for  the  welfare  of  the  chair. 

"  O,  doctor !    you  will    never  spoil  that    pretty 


48  A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE. 

chair  by  sitting  down  in  that  coat,"  she  cried,  at 
the  same  time  giving  his  wife  a  glance  which  the 
latter  was  quick  to  interpret. 

"  Miss  Jessie  I  know  will  excuse  you,  father, 
while  you  come  and  change  your  coat ;  for  really 
it  is  not  fit  to  sit  down  in."  The  doctor  yielded 
reluctantly  to  his  wife's  suggestion,  but  presently 
he  was  induced  to  leave  the  room  with  her  for  a 
change  in  his  apparel. 

The  moment  the  door  closed  upon  them,  Jessie, 
who  had  not  ceased  to  feel  herself  de  trop  since 
her  entrance,  seized  the  opportunity  to  take  her 
leave. 

"  Mr.  Carrol,  I  must  ask  you  to  make  my 
apologies  to  your  mother,  but  I  am  sure  I  had  best 
go  before  your  father  returns,"  she  said,  on  finding 
herself  alone  with  the  doctor's  son. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Miss  Jessie  ;  I  appre- 
ciate the  unpleasantness  of  the  situation  for  you, 
and  your  kindness  in  coming  in.  You  have  my 
heartfelt  thanks  for  what  you  did  for  me  this 
afternoon." 

Milton  Carrol  spoke  as  if  under  some  powerful 
restraint,  and  feeling  the  delicacy  of  his  position, 
Jessie  returned  quickly: 


A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE.  49 

"  Oh  !  that  is  not  worth  speaking  of.  Any  one 
would  have  done  as  much."  She  would  have 
added  "  Good-day,"  when  Mr.  Carrol  interposed. 

"  You  may  count  it  a  small  service,  Miss  Jessie, 
but  I  think  few  young  ladies  would  have  faced 
such  an  ordeal.  I  shall  never  forget  that  your 
woman's  wit  and  kindness  saved  my  mother  and 
myself  a  painful  exposure." 

"  It  is  very  unfortunate  your  father  should  not 
always  be  himself.  You  have  my  sincerest  sym- 
pathy," Jessie  said  feelingly. 

"  You  are  more  than  kind,  but  excuse  my  detain- 
ing you  a  moment.  I  want  to  tax  your  kindness  still 
farther :  please  do  not  think  worse  of  my  father 
for  what  he  said  of  himself  to-day,  or  for  what 
you  may  hear  others  say  of  him  ;  for  I  assure  you 
that  a  worthier  life  than  he  has  lived  is  scarcely 
possible.  I  will  not  deny,"  he  continued,  "  that 
there  are  certain  circumstances  which  seem  to  tell 
against  him,  and  which  we  cannot  explain,  though 
we  live  in  hope  that  the  day  will  come  when  we 
can  do  so,  and  when  we  shall  be  able  to  clear  his 
name  from  the  foul  charge  which  now  rests 
upon  it." 

It  was  no  slight  thing  to  Milton  Carrol  that  his 


SO  A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE. 

father's  fair  fame  should  be  doubted,  and  when  to 
this  was  added  the  affliction  of  his  clouded  in- 
tellect, was  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  inmates 
of  Elm  Brook  Farm  had  shut  themselves  away 
from  those  who  had  no  sympathy  for  them  in  their 
trouble  ? 

Jessie  had  not  before  realized  the  shadow  which 
rested  on  this  house,  or  the  isolation  and  loneli- 
ness of  the  wife  and  son  whose  misfortune  had  so 
completely  separated  them  from  their  neighbors. 

"  Mr.  Carrol,  I  will  believe  nothing  of  your 
father  unworthy  of  a  good  and  honorable  man," 
was  Jessie's  earnest  and  heartfelt  response.  "I 
am  grateful  for  your  confidence,"  she  added,  "and 
no  one  shall  ever  be  the  wiser  from  me  for  anything 
I  have  heard  or  seen  to-day." 

"  Thank  you  ;  I  felt  sure  I  might  trust  to  your 
silence,"  was  Mr.  Carrol's  reply,  grasping  with  a 
hearty  pressure  the  hand  she  gave  him  in  parting. 

Jessie's  thoughts  were  occupied  with  this  matter 
as  she  retraced  her  steps  homeward. 

"  I  wonder  why  Aunt  Helen  has  never  called 
upon  Mrs.  Carrol.  It  cannot  be  for  the  reason 
that  she  is  not  her  social  and  intellectual  equal, 
which  is  her  usual  excuse  for  not  visiting  our  peo- 


A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE.  51 

pie."  Jessie  so  completely  identified  herself  with 
her  uncle's  family,  that  she  always  spoke  of  his 
parish  in  this  way.  She  remembered  now  how 
completely  her  aunt  had  held  aloof  from  the  Car- 
rols,  and  she  was  puzzled  to  account  for  her  doing 
so,  as  the  parsonage  gave  little  credence  to  the 
rumors  which  were  afloat  in  the  community. 

"  Aunty  shall  go  and  see  Mrs.  Carrol.  It  is  a 
shame  for  people  to  treat  her  as  they  do.  She 
has  enough  to  bear  even  if  we  stand  by  her."  Jes- 
sie's sympathies  had  been  greatly  excited  toward 
the  doctor's  family  by  what  she  had  seen  and  heard 
this  afternoon,  and  she  resolved  that  hereafter  the 
parsonage  should  take  no  neutral  ground  toward 
the  Carrols. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  she  heard  the  last  of 
her  getting  bogged  in  Plover's  Gully ;  for  her  cousin 
Allan  had  heard  of  it  in  some  way,  and  perhaps 
for  the  reason  that  Jessie  herself  had  nothing  to 
say  about  it,  he  fancied  it  teased  her  to  have  the 
matter  mentioned  ;  so,  boy-like,  he  reminded  her  of 
it  on  every  occasion. 

But  Jessie  was  not  likely  soon  to  forget  the  cir- 
cumstance, for  it  had  made  too  deep  an  impression 
upon  her  mind  to  be  easily  effaced.  Perhaps  for 


52  A    MUDDY    ADVENTURE. 

the  reason  that  she  could  speak  of  the  experience 
to  no  one,  it  occupied  more  of  her  thoughts. 
Somehow  there  seemed  a  horrible  fascination  in 
the  remembrance — strive  as  hard  as  she  would  to 
put  it  away,  Memory  was  constantly  evoking  the 
anguished  ravings  of  the  unfortunate  man,  till  her 
dreams  were  often  haunted  by  them. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE     LETTER. 

DOCTOR  CARROL  was  not  seen  abroad 
again  for  the  winter  ;  and  before  spring 
opened,  what  had  previously  been  but  suspicion, 
had  grown  into  a  direct  charge. 

The  doctor  had  committed  some  crime,  from 
the  consequences  of  which  his  wife  and  son  were 
striving  to  screen  him. 

Jessie  frequently  heard  this  said  in  one  way  and 
another,  but  always  treated  it  as  too  preposterous 
for  credence,  while  her  heart  went  out  in  sym- 
pathy to  those  who  could  neither  defend  them- 
selves, nor  him  who  was  dearer  to  them  than  even 
their  own  good  name. 

Mrs.  Carrol  and  her  son  need  not  try  to  make  it 
appear  that  the  charges  which  the  doctor  brought 
against  himself  were  but  the  vagaries  of  a  dis- 
eased mind  ;  his  neighbors  were  sure  they  knew 
better.  Why  had  he  always  shut  himself  away 
from  every  one  ?  If  he  were  insane  now,  he  had 

53 


54  THE    LETTER. 

not  been  five  years  before,  when  he  had  first  come 
among  them.  No  ;  it  was  only  when  remorse  for 
his  crime  had  prompted  him  to  confess  it,  that  his 
family  had  declared  him  insane. 

John  Norberry  was  not  unaware  of  the  feeling 
in  the  town,  and  while  it  troubled  him  greatly,  he 
found  himself  unable  to  say  or  do  anything  to 
stay  it. 

Of  what  avail  was  it  for  him  to  remind  the  doc- 
tor's accusers  of  the  devoted  wife  and  son  who 
were  bearing  a  double  trial  under  their  suspicions 
and  denunciations,  since  he  always  received  the 
same  answer  in  one  form  or  another  :  — 

"They  deserved  to  suffer.  It  was  no  more  than 
right  that  they  should,  since  their  pride  would 
not  bow  to  the  humiliation  of  having  the  truth 
known." 

On  one  of  his  calls  at  Elm  Brook  Farm,  the 
minister  had  suggested  to  Mrs.  Carrol  that  medi- 
cal treatment  might  help  her  husband's  case  ;  for  it 
was  a  fact  often  commented  upon  in  the  town,  that 
a  physician  had  never  been  called  in,  even  when 
the  doctor  had  been  at  his  worst. 

This  suggestion,  however,  was  no  sooner  made 
than  the  minister  saw  that  it  was  not  well  received. 


THE    LETTER.  55 

Mrs.  Carrol  evidently  considered  it  bordering  upon 
interference.  For  a  moment  she  seemed  quite 
embarrassed,  and  then  with  more  hauteur  than  he 
had  ever  seen  her  show,  she  replied :  "  Mr.  Nor- 
berry,  I  think  I  understand  the  feeling  that  moves 
you  to  advise  me  in  this  matter  ;  for  I  am  aware  of 
what  is  said  in  Newbury.  As  far  as  any  advice  is 
prompted  by  regard  for  my  husband,  I  am  grateful 
for  it ;  but  had  we  not  known  that  medical  treat- 
ment was  entirely  unavailing  in  Doctor  Carrol's 
case,  we  should  never  have  come  here.  That  rest 
and  quiet  are  the  only  agents  that  can  ever  restore 
his  overworked  nerves,  has  been  the  verdict  of  the 
first  physicians  in  this  country  as  well  as  Europe." 

John  Norberry  did  not  again  attempt  to  advise 
Mrs.  Carrol,  though  he  sympathized  heartily  with 
her  in  the  trouble  she  was  so  bravely  bearing. 

While  the  most  friendly  relations  existed  be- 
tween himself  and  the  doctor's  son,  the  latter 
never  in  any  way  alluded  to  the  charges  made 
against  them  as  a  family  ;  and  since  Milton  Carrol 
was  so  reticent  in  this  matter,  the  minister  did  not 
invite  a  confidence  which  was  not  freely  given. 
He  could  but  note,  however,  that  the  last  two 
years  had  left  their  mark  upon  his  young  friend, 


56  THE    LETTER. 

who  seemed  to  have  suddenly  reached  the  maturity 
of  middle  life,  and  when  they  met  now  it  was  as 
those  standing  on  the  same  level  of  experience. 

At  this  time,  Elm  Brook  Farm  held  but  little 
intercourse  with  the  outside  world.  The  frequent, 
informal  calls  of  neighbors  who  had  been  wont  to 
run  in  at  all  times  of  day,  after  the  fashion  of  most 
country  neighborhoods,  had  ceased  entirely.  Mrs. 
Carrol  for  the  last  two  years  had  not  encouraged 
this  kind  of  caller,  for  the  reason  that  it  confined 
the  doctor  to  his  room,  since  he  was  not  willing  to 
to  see  visitors.  And  lest  his  freedom  of  the  house 
should  be  restricted,  his  wife  shut  herself  away 
from  the  society  she  might  otherwise  have  had. 

The  service  that  Jessie  Norberry  had  rendered 
the  doctor  in  bringing  him  home  that  afternoon, 
gained  her  a  warm  friend  in  his  wife  ;  for  Mrs. 
Carrol  fully  appreciated  this  act  which  had  pre- 
vented any  publicity  being  given  to  her  husband's 
wild  purpose. 

A  few  days  later,  she  had  written  the  girl  a 
graceful  note,  warmly  expressing  her  gratitude, 
and  in  which  she  begged  Jessie  to  come  and  see 
her,  making  the  plea  that  she  had  very  little 
society,  and  was  often  lonely. 


THE    LETTER.  57 

Jessie  did  go,  and  was  so  charmed  with  the  ele- 
gant and  agreeable  woman  that  she  soon  repeated 
her  call. 

And  now  a  cordial  welcome  always  awaited  the 
minister's  niece  at  Elm  Brook  Farm,  where  Mrs. 
Carrol  exercised  her  rare  tact  and  unusual  con- 
versational powers  to  entertain  her  young  visitor. 
So  it  was  little  wonder  that  Jessie  enjoyed  going 
there,  or  that  she  often  declared  the  doctor's  wife 
to  be  the  most  delightful  lady  of  her  acquaintance. 

She  occasionally  met  Doctor  Carrol  in  his  home, 
and  he  always  seemed  glad  to  see  her,  often  re- 
maining in  the  room  the  whole  time  of  her  stay. 
This  was  a  course  so  different  from  what  he 
usually  pursued  toward  visitors,  that  it  was  quite 
noticeable.  That  the  doctor  enjoyed  her  visits 
was  the  plea  Mrs.  Carrol  used  in  urging  Jessie  to 
come  often. 

She  had  not  been  at  the  farm  for  some  weeks, 
having  heard  in  the  meantime  that  the  doctor  was 
suffering  from  an  unusually  severe  attack  of  his 
malady,  and  fearing  that  a  visit  might  be  inoppor- 
tune. When  she  learned  that  he  was  better,  she 
was  seized  with  a  fit  of  compunction  for  having 
neglected  her  friend  so  long,  and  took  the  first 


58  THE    LETTER. 

opportunity  to  go  and  see  her.  She  found  Mrs. 
Carrol  more  depressed  than  she  had  ever  seen  her. 
It  seemed  the  doctor's  violent  symptoms  had  given 
place  to  a  settled  melancholy,  from  which  it  was 
impossible  to  rouse  him.  He  appeared  disinclined 
to  talk  at  all  ;  but  when  he  did  it  was  to  mourn 
his  sinful  state,  in  which  he  fancied  himself  living 
under  the  wrath  and  curse  of  God.  His  disease 
had  apparently  taken  the  form  of  religious  mania  ; 
and  this  evidently  destroyed  the  hope  which  his 
poor  wife  had  before  entertained  of  his  ultimate 
recovery. 

While  she  was  speaking  of  her  fears  in  this  re- 
spect, the  door  of  the  room  where  she  and  Jessie 
were  sitting,  suddenly  opened,  and  who  should 
enter  but  the  doctor  himself. 

"Why,  Doctor  Carrol!"  his  wife  exclaimed, 
surprise,  almost  consternation,  depicted  on  her 
face  ;  but  a  moment  later  she  had  recovered  her- 
self, and  asked  almost  naturally,  "  If  he  had  missed 
her?  or,  had  he  come  to  see  Miss  Jessie  ?  " 

"Both,"  returned  the  doctor,  smiling,  and  greet- 
ing Jessie  with  his  old-time  courtesy. 

Certainly  no  one  would  have  taken  him  for  a 
demented  man.  He  was  dressed  with  scrupulous 


THE    LETTER.  59 

care,  and  was  apparently  more  at  his  ease  than  the 
two  whom  his  appearance  had  suddenly  discon- 
certed. 

"Do  not  go  yet,  Miss  Jessie!  It  is  a  long  time 
time  since  you  have  been  here  ;  stay  and  spend 
the  afternoon,"  he  urged,  when,  a  few  minutes 
after  his  entrance,  Jessie  rose  to  take  her  leave  ; 
for  she  had  been  not  a  little  embarrassed  by  his 
sudden  appearance  just  as  his  wife  had  told  her  that 
he  did  not  leave  his  room.  Of  course  his  doing 
so  now  was  but  the  freak  of  an  unsound  mind,  and 
might  possibly  indicate  the  approach  of  another 
violent  attack  of  his  malady.  To  be  sure  there 
was  nothing  in  his  appearance  to  betoken  this  ;  his 
present  mood  was  certainly  a  very  mild  one,  but 
could  it  be  depended  upon  ? 

These  thoughts  were  passing  through  Jessie's 
mind  as  the  doctor  spoke.  There  was  nothing  to 
prevent  her  staying  longer,  as  he  seemed  to  wish 
it,  and  Mrs.  Carrol's  eyes  were  asking  her  to  humor 
his  whim  ;  so  she  made  a  sort  of  mental  com- 
promise :  she  would  not  go  at  once,  though  by  re- 
maining she  felt  she  was  subjecting  herself  to  a 
painful  ordeal. 

"  There  is  nothing  which  necessitates  my  going 


6O  THE    LETTER. 

at  once  ;  but  I  shall  not  be  able  to  remain  all  the 
afternoon,  as  Aunt  Kitty  has  gone  out  to  tea,  and 
I  shall  have  to  be  at  home  to  look  after  the  chil- 
dren," she  said,  resuming  her  seat. 

The  doctor  seemed  pleased  at  her  compliance, 
and  settled  back  in  his  easy-chair  as  if  prepared  to 
enjoy  her  stay.  On  her  former  visits  he  had  gen- 
erally sat  in  silence,  though  not  an  uninterested 
listener  to  what  she  and  his  wife  had  to  say,  as  a 
nod  or  smile  would  now  and  then  attest.  But  this 
afternoon  he  at  once  took  the  initiative  in  the  way 
of  conversation,  and  proved  himself  to  be  cognizant 
of  matters  in  the  town  in  which  his  family  had 
not  supposed  him  to  take  any  interest,  discussing 
with  a  discriminating,  clear-headed  judgment  topics 
which  would  have  seemed  impossible  for  one  to 
discuss  whose  mind  was  deranged. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  acquaintance  with  him, 
Jessie  had  a  glimpse  of  what  Doctor  Carrol  had 
been  before  this  cloud  came  upon  him  ;  and  she 
never  afterward  doubted  that  on  this  occasion  he 
had,  for  a  time  at  least,  regained  a  healthy  mental 
balance. 

His  conversation  this  afternoon  proved  that  even 
in  his  seclusion  he  had  kept  himself  informed  of 


THE    LETTER.  6 1 

what  was  going  on  about  him,  and  more  than  once 
his  visitor  was  struck  by  his  keen  and  critical 
analysis  of  people  and  motives.  Jessie  glanced 
now  and  then  at  Mrs.  Carrol,  who  took  little  part 
in  the  conversation,  but  whose  face  was  perfectly 
transformed  with  happiness.  It  was  as  if  Hope 
had  whispered  in  her  heart  the  promise  of  better 
days. 

After  a  time  the  conversation  came  round  to 
books,  when  the  subject  of  a  popular  work  was  in- 
troduced, which  reminded  Jessie  to  ask  the  doc- 
tor if  he  had  seen  the  last  Quarterly,  in  which  a 
criticism  of  this  by  her  uncle  had  appeared. 

He  had  not  read  it,  he  said,  but  would  take  an 
early  opportunity  to  look  it  up.  Then  he  spoke  of 
her  uncle  as  an  able  writer,  and  predicted  that  he 
would  make  a  name  and  place  in  literature  were  he 
to  enter  that  field.  This  reminded  him  of  a  work 
which  he  wanted  the  minister  to  read. 

"  Wife,  will  you  get  that  book  Burton  sent  me  a 
few  weeks  ago  ?  It  is  on  my  study  table,"  the 
doctor  said,  apologizing  for  not  going  to  fetch  it 
himself,  on  the  plea  of  his  lameness,  an  infirmity 
which  had  been  growing  upon  him  of  late. 

Mrs.  Carrol  had  no  sooner  left  the  room  to  com- 


62  THE    LETTER. 

ply  with  his  request,  than  he  drew  a  letter  from 
the  breast  pocket  of  his  coat. 

It  did  not  occur  to  Jessie  to  feel  any  fear  at  being 
left  alone  with  the  doctor,  till  he  came  over  to  her, 
and,  stooping  down  so  as  to  bring  his  face  on  a 
level  with  her  own,  begged  in  a  whisper  which  was 
tragic  in  its  earnestness,  that  she  would  do  him  a 
favor. 

"  All  I  ask  is  that  you  will  deliver  this  letter  in 
person  to  the  man  whose  address  is  written  upon 
it.  But  not  at  present  must  you  do  this  ;  not  till 
you  hear  of  my  death.  Will  you  promise  to  do 
this  for  me  ?  "  he  added,  in  a  voice  that  was  al- 
most sepulchral  in  its  unnatural  pitch  and  intensity. 

In  the  first  instant  of  finding  this  strangely 
transformed  face  so  near  her  own,  Jessie  started 
back,  but  quickly  recovered  herself.  She  would 
not  show  any  fear,  since  the  madman  might  take 
advantage  of  it ;  but  her  voice  was  far  from  being 
steady  when  she  answered,  — 

"  Certainly,  doctor  ;  I  will  do  anything  for  you 
that  I  can."  She  did  not  offer,  however,  to  take 
the  letter  which  he  held  toward  her,  and  evidently 
thinking  she  had  not  understood  his  request,  he 
repeated  it. 


THE    LETTER.  63 

"  Will  you  take  this  and  deliver  it  ?  I  know  of 
no  one  else  to  whom  I  can  entrust  it,  and  I  feel 
sure  that  I  can  depend  upon  you,  if  you  give  me 
your  word  you  will  do  it.  It  is  not  a  hard  thing 
that  I  ask  of  you.  Promise  ! "  This  last  was  al- 
most a  menace. 

Oh !  if  his  wife  would  only  come  back.  What 
could  be  keeping  her  ?  Jessie  felt  that  she  must 
reply,  for  those  strange  wild  eyes  held  her  as  by 
some  subtle,  dreadful  charm. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  serve  you,  Doctor,  but  you 
must  be  mistaken  in  thinking  you  have  not  other 
friends  who  would  do  so  small  a  service  for  you. 
I  am  sure  your  wife  or  son  "  — 

"  They  must  not  know  anything  about  it,"  in- 
terposed the  doctor.  "  That  is  just  why  I  wish  you 
to  do  it.  Miss  Jessie,  do  not  fail  me.  I  have  de- 
pended upon  you  to  carry  this,  my  full  confession, 
to  the  only  person  living,  who  knows  anything  of 
the  crime  which  is  slowly  killing  me.  I  cannot 
die  without  making  it  known."  The  doctor  had 
changed  his  tone  and  attitude  to  a  supplicating 
one,  and  was  now  on  his  knees,  though  those 
basilisk  eyes  never  for  a  moment  removed  them- 
selves from  his  victim's  face. 


64  THE    LETTER. 

"  You  must  not  refuse  to  do  this  for  me,  or  evil 
will  "  —  Here  a  draught  of  air  in  the  hall  shut  to 
the  door  of  the  room.  The  doctor  started  violently, 
then  thrusting  the  letter  into  Jessie's  hand,  cried 
excitedly, — 

"  Conceal  it  quickly ;  no  one  must  see  it,"  and 
instinctively  the  girl's  hand  went  to  her  pocket. 
She  must  take  the  letter  since  forced  to  do  so,  but 
later  she  could  give  it  to  his  wife. 

"  Thanks,  my  dear  girl.  The  prayers  of  a  truly 
penitent  man  will  follow  you,"  cried  the  doctor, 
grasping  her  hand  and  pressing  it  with  a  fervor, 
apparently  born  of  intense  relief. 

What  had  she  done  ?  Was  this  tacit  consent  to 
his  wishes  to  be  a  binding  obligation  ?  To  deliver 
a  letter  seemed  a  simple  thing  enough,  but  in  this 
case  what  might  it  not  entail  ?  Thoughts  like 
these  were  passing  confusedly  through  Jessie's 
brain  as  the  doctor  regained  his  chair. 

A  moment  later,  when  his  wife  entered,  there 
was  nothing  in  the  doctor's  appearance  to  give  a 
hint  of  what  had  just  occurred  ;  though  Jessie's 
absorbed  expression  did  not  escape  Mrs.  Carrol, 
who  wondered  what  had  brought  such  a  thoughtful, 
introspective  look  to  the  bright  face. 


THE    LETTER.  65 

She  apologized  for  having  being  gone  so  long, 
but  said  she  had  quite  a  hunt  for  the  book,  which 
she  had  finally  found  among  a  pile  of  papers. 

In  taking  it  from  his  wife,  the  doctor  thanked 
her,  but  he  had  apparently  forgotten  his  purpose 
in  regard  to  it,  and  Jessie  would  have  left  the 
house  without  it,  had  not  Mrs.  Carrol  reminded 
him  of  his  intention. 

After  what  had  just  passed,  Jessie  could  but  feel 
that  the  doctor  \&&  finessed  not  a  little  to  get  his 
wife  out  of  the  room  ;  that  this  book  had  only  been 
a  part  of  his  plan  to  see  her  alone,  and  she  was  ill 
at  ease  in  taking  her  leave  of  Mrs.  Carrol  with 
that  letter  in  her  pocket. 

The  doctor  had  followed  her  to  the  door,  allow- 
ing her  no  opportunity  to  carry  out  her  purpose  in 
regard  to  it.  Had  he  suspected  that  she  would 
give  it  to  his  wife  ?  He  had  at  least  made  it  im- 
possible for  her  to  do  so  without  his  knowledge  ; 
and  his  parting  words  had  seemed  to  strengthen 
the  obligation  to  which  her  silence  had  bound  her. 

"  A  friend  in  need  is  a  friend  indeed,"  he  had 
said  with  a  pressure  of  her  hand  which  had  made 
his  meaning  unmistakable,  though  his  words  had 
seemed  to  supplement  his  wife's  expression  of 


66  THE    LETTER. 

gratitude  that  Jessie  had  not  stood  upon  ceremony 
with  her  in  the  matter  of  calls. 

The  girl's  feelings  were  anything  but  comfort- 
able as  she  walked  home  with  the  doctor's  letter 
still  in  her  possession.  What  should  she  do  with 
it  ?  To  give  it  up  now  to  any  one  but  the  person 
for  whom  it  was  intended,  seemed  to  her  an  out- 
rage of  trust,  against  which  her  sense  of  right  re- 
volted. 

If  she  only  had  not  taken  it !  She  should  have 
been  firm  in  refusing  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
the  doctor's  commission,  since  it  was  to  be  kept 
from  his  wife's  knowledge.  Now  as  she  recalled 
that  moment  it  seemed  as  if  a  power  outside  of 
herself  had  compelled  her  to  take  that  letter. 

She  certainly  had  not  intended  to  ;  she  had 
weakly  yielded  when  she  should  have  been  firm  ; 
for  now  Jessie  laughed  at  the  thought  that  she 
had  really  any  thing  to  fear  from  the  doctor.  He 
would  never  have  harmed  her  in  any  way,  nor 
could  he  have  forced  her  to  take  it.  No  ;  her  will 
must  be  naturally  weak.  Had  the  habit  of  yielding 
it  under  her  Aunt  Helen's  discipline  grown  into  a 
defect  of  character  ?  It  seemed  very  like  it,  since 
she  had  had  no  doubt  as  to  what  was  right  in  this 


THE    LETTER.  6/ 

matter.  She  had  compromised  with  principle. 
The  weakness  of  her  character  had  got  the  better 
of  her.  Jessie  did  not  spare  herself  in  these  accusa- 
tions, though  she  was  fain  to  remember  the  many 
contests  of  will  in  which  she  had  been  utterly 
worsted,  and  left  to  gather  up  such  bits  of  her  own 
personality  as  had  survived  the  struggle. 

Well,  she  would  at  least  see  to  what  she  now 
stood  committed  through  this  last  unfortunate 
surrender  of  her  will ;  and  taking  the  letter  from 
her  pocket,  she  read  the  following  address, — 

DOCTOR  BENJAMIN  K.  LANDFORD, 

Arlington,  Hanover  Co.,  New  York  State. 

If  she  kept  this  letter  she  would  have  to  find 
this  man  in  New  York  State.  That,  probably, 
would  not  be  a  very  great  undertaking ;  but  she 
was  not  called  upon  to  do  this  at  present.  "  When 
you  hear  of  my  death,"  Doctor  Carrol  had  said  ; 
and  the  day  might  be  far  distant  when  she  would 
be  required  to  redeem  her  pledge.  In  the  mean- 
time she  would  be  likely  often  to  see  Doctor 
Carrol,  and  it  would  be  strange  if  she  could  not 
find  an  opportunity  to  give  it  back  to  him,  and  be 
quit  of  all  responsibility  in  the  matter. 


68  THE    LETTER. 

Then  her  mind  went  back  to  the  day  when  Mil- 
ton Carrol  had  spoken  to  her  of  his  father's 
hallucination.  He  had  allowed  that  there  was  a 
mystery  in  his  life  to  which  they  had  not  the  clue. 
It  might  be  that  this  letter  would  furnish  it ;  prob- 
ably make  everything  clear.  But  might  it  not 
prove  that  the  doctor's  accusers  had  been  right  in 
taking  his  charges  against  himself  at  their  worst  ? 

No ;  she  would  not  believe  that  any  grave 
charge  could  be  proved  against  this  man,  whose 
honorable,  Christian  principles  she  could  not 
doubt.  Besides,  had  she  not  promised  Milton 
Carrol  that  she  would  believe  no  evil  of  his  father  ? 
and  now  should  she  give  the  lie  to  her  words, 
by  assuming  that  this  letter  could  criminate  him  ? 
—  that  it  was  the  confession  of  an  actual  crime  ? 
No ;  she  could  best  prove  his  innocence  by  giving 
what  publicity  she  could  to  his  confession.  But 
even  this  thought  did  not  change  Jessie's  deter- 
mination to  be  quit  of  such  an  obligation  on  the 
first  opportunity.  The  more  her  mind  dwelt  upon 
it,  the  harder  it  was  for  her  to  believe  that  Doctor 
Carrol  had  not  known  what  he  was  talking  about 
that  afternoon.  No  one  could  have  handled  the 
subjects  that  he  had  more  intelligently. 


CHAPTER   V. 

MISS  NORBERRY'S  MISTAKE. 

CATHERINE,  I  think  it  is  high  time  a  stop 
should  be  put  to  Jessie's  going  so  much  to 
the  Carrols.     The  first  thing  we  know  she  will  be 
involved  in  a  love  entanglement,  which  we  should 
all  deplore." 

Helen  Norberry  had  deliberated  some  little  time 
before  expressing  herself  in  this  way  to  her  sister- 
in-law,  knowing  that  both  she  and  the  minister  felt 
very  kindly  to  the  doctor's  family  ;  and  that  neither 
of  them  believed  that  there  was  any  foundation  for 
the  reports  current  against  him,  other  than  in  his 
own  diseased  fancy.  But  whether  there  was  or 
not,  was  not  the  point  with  Miss  Norberry.  There 
certainly  was  the  taint  of  insanity  in  the  Carrol 
blood,  and  that,  in  this  lady's  opinion,  was  a  suffi- 
cient ban,  even  if  there  were  no  other. 

And  now  her  suspicions  were  aroused  that  her 
niece  was  becoming  interested  in  the  doctor's  son, 
who  evidently  was  more  than  interested  in  her. 

69 


7O  MISS  NORBERRY'S  MISTAKE. 

Several  times  of  late  she  had  heard  Jessie 
warmly  defend  Milton  Carrol  from  aspersions 
which  had  been  made  against  him  in  her  presence  ; 
and  this,  with  other  things,  had  opened  Miss  Nor- 
berry's  eyes  to  her  niece's  danger  in  this  acquaint- 
ance. 

"  Milton  Carrol,"  Miss  Norberry  continued,  "  is 
just  the  kind  of  man  to  take  the  fancy  of  a  girl  like 
Jessie,  and  the  very  fact  that  she  believes  him  to 
be  misrepresented  and  maligned,  makes  him  more 
interesting  to  her.  We  are  certainly  doing  wrong 
in  allowing  her  to  go  there  so  often." 

"  From  the  fact  that  she  does  go  there  often,  I 
feel  sure,  Helen,  you  are  mistaken  in  thinking 
there  is  any  such  feeling  on  her  part.  Jessie  is  not 
the  girl  to  put  herself  in  any  man's  way.  She  has 
never  spoken  of  meeting  him,  and  her  calls  upon 
his  mother  are  invariably  at  such  times  as  he  is 
unlikely  to  be  at  home.  But  even  if  she  does 
occasionally  meet  him  in  this  way,  I  see  no  harm 
in  her  doing  so  ;  and  certainly  neither  her  uncle 
nor  myself  would  feel  like  forbidding  her  to  go 
there." 

"  Forbidding  her  to  go  there,"  interposed  Miss 
Norberry,  "  would  be  as  foolish  a  thing  as  could 


MISS  NORBERRY'S   MISTAKE.  71 

be  done.  If  I  did  not  understand  human  nature 
pretty  thoroughly  I  might  have  made  that  blunder 
myself.  But  Jessie  would  have  known  at  once 
that  the  prohibition  was  on  Milton  Carrol's  ac- 
count, and  if  she  has  not  already  exalted  him  to 
the  highest  pinnacle  of  her  regard,  she  would  do 
so  directly.  If  you  or  John  do  not  see  danger  for 
her  in  this  acquaintance,  I  do ;  and  I  furthermore 
realize  that  our  only  safe  course  will  be  to  send 
her  away  from  Newbury.  Her  Annt  Wilson  must 
invite  her  there  to  spend  the  winter  ;  and  not  only 
must  such  a  request  meet  with  no  opposition  from 
us,  but  Jessie  must  be  made  to  see  it  in  the  light 
of  duty.  Mrs.  Wilson  is  her  mother's  only  sister, 
and  it  is  no  more  than  right  that  Jessie  should  make 
her  a  long  visit  now  and  then.  In  Boston  she 
will  be  in  no  danger  of  meeting  Milton  Carrol,  or 
of  having  her  sympathies  worked  upon  by  his 
his  family.  My  brother  Allan's  child  must  form 
no  improper  or  romantic  attachments." 

Miss  Norberry  had  spoken  very  decidedly,  and 
her  sister-in-law  saw  that  her  mind  was  fully  made 
up  to  the  step  she  proposed.  That  she  had  Jessie's 
real  interest  at  heart,  could  not  be  questioned, 
however  mistaken  she  might  be  in  her  methods. 


72  MISS  NORBERRY'S  MISTAKE. 

Helen  Norberry  had  filled  the  place  of  a  mother 
to  Jessie  since  the  latter  was  two  years  old  ;  and 
though  her  rule  had  been  an  iron  one,  she  had 
been  conscientious  in  the  discharge  of  her  duties. 
In  return  she  had  received  the  obedience  she  de- 
manded, and  such  a  measure  of  love  as  was  natural 
from  a  child  of  Jessie's  warm,  affectionate  nature. 

But  it  was  to  her  Aunt  Kitty  that  Jessie  had 
gone  with  all  her  childish  sorrows  and  confidences, 
and  this  relative  really  knew  her  better  than  she 
who  had  taken  the  place  of  a  mother  to  her. 

"  I  do  not  think  Jessie  will  care  to  spend  so  long 
a  time  with  her  Aunt  Wilson  ;  her  home  can 
scarcely  be  a  pleasant  one  for  any  young  girl.  Be- 
sides, I  can't  bear  to  think  of  her  going  away  from 
us." 

Mrs.  Norberry  was  troubled,  and  the  usually 
serene  expression  of  her  face  had  given  place  to 
something  like  a  frown ;  but  this  quickly  dis- 
appeared as  she  remembered  that  Jessie  herself 
would  have  a  word  to  say  about  this,  and  that  she 
might  put  an  effectual  veto  upon  the  measure  by 
resolutely  declining  her  Aunt  Wilson's  invitation. 

"  I  can't  fancy  why  you  have  singled  out  Milton 
Carrol ;  but  since  you  seem  to  feel  so  sure  that  he 


MISS    NORBERRY  S    MISTAKE.  73 

stands  ready  to  gobble  Jessie  up,  perhaps  to  save 
her  from  so  dreadful  a  fate  it  may  be  best  to  send 
her  away,"  Mrs  Norberry  smilingly  said. 

"I  don't  see  that  it  is  any  joking  matter,  Cath- 
erine," Miss  Norberry  replied  stiffly.  "  If  I  can 
help  it,  Jessie  shall  not  be  sacrificed  to  a  false  sen- 
timent. Rather  than  she  should  ever  be  Milton 
Carrol's  wife,  I  would  willingly  see  her  lie  dead  in 
her  coffin." 

Mrs.  Norberry  was  accustomed  to  such  strong 
expressions,  and  was  wont  to  say  in  plea  for  her, 
"  It  is  only  Helen's  way,"  but  in  this  instance  she 
looked  not  a  little  shocked,  and,  for  a  moment,  did 
not  reply.  Then  she  said  quietly,  — 

"  I  cannot  see  this  as  you  do,  Helen,  but  if  her 
uncle  thinks  it  best  that  Jessie  should  go  away 
from  Newbury,  I  will  not  oppose,  sorry  as  I  shall 
be  to  part  with  her." 

In  talking  this  over  with  her  brother,  Miss  Nor- 
berry made  a  point  of  Jessie's  growing  intimacy 
with  the  doctor's  wife,  which  brought  her  so  often 
in  contact  with  the  family,  and  though  she  had 
nothing  in  proof  of  an  attachment  at  present  exist- 
ing between  her  niece  and  Milton  Carrol,  she  in- 
sisted that  there  was  danger  of  such  a  contingency. 


74  MISS  NORBERRY'S  MISTAKE. 

Like  his  wife,  John  Norberry  could  not  see 
where  the  danger  to  Jessie,  in  this  acquaintance, 
lay ;  nor  did  he  regard  it  as  so  very  contumacious 
on  Milton  Carrol's  part,  should  he  aspire  to  his 
niece's  hand.  But  when  his  sister  abruptly  asked 
him  if  he  wished  Jessie  to  marry  into  a  mad  family 
she  had  him  at  a  disadvantage. 

"  Like  father,  like  son,"  she  said.  "Even  now 
Milton  Carrol  was  different  from  other  young  men  ; 
but  what  might  to-day  pass  for  eccentricity  in  him, 
a  few  years  hence  would  be  recognized  as  the  fam- 
ily taint.  He  was  a  dangerous  acquaintance  for  a 
girl  who  held  the  romantic  notions  that  Jessie  did 
about  friendship  and  honor." 

"  Last  month  it  was  young  Mildmay,  now  it  is 
Mr.  Carrol.  It  seems  to  me,  Helen,  that  you  mag- 
nify your  duties,"  ventured  the  minister  mildly. 

"That  was  quite  a  different  matter.  I  spoke 
for  Mr.  Mildmay's  own  sake.  Jessie  is  in  no  dan- 
ger there.  I  do  think,  as  I  said,  that  you  had 
better  not  invite  him  here  to  preach  again  ;  any- 
body can  see  that  he  has  eyes  and  ears  only  for 
Jessie." 

"  He  shows  his  good  taste  at  least,"  was  the 
minister's  amused  rejoinder.  He  well  knew  the 


MISS  NORBERRY'S  MISTAKE.  75 

young  divine's  penchant  for  his  beautiful  niece ; 
and  also  knew  that  Jessie  was  quite  indifferent  to 
him  in  return. 

"That's  as  you  think,"  sharply  returned  Miss 
Norberry.  "  He  doesn't  show  his  good  sense,  at  any 
rate,  to  be  so  enamored  of  a  fair  face  as  to  forget 
a  waiting  congregation,  and  his  duties  in  the  house 
of  God.  The  last  time  he  preached  here  the  bell 
had  stopped  tolling  some  time  before  he  was  able 
to  tear  himself  away  from  Jessie.  Then  he  ran 
every  step  of  the  way,  to  find  the  whole  parish 
waiting  for  him  when  he  got  there." 

The  minister  had  slightly  raised  his  eyebrows 
while  his  sister  was  speaking  ;  an  evidence  that  he 
was  annoyed.  "  If  Mildmay  forgot  himself,  Jessie 
should  have  reminded  him,"  he  said  gravely. 

"  Well,  she  did  not,  and  it  is  not  the  first  time, 
cither,  that  she  has  amused  herself  at  his  expense." 

Miss  Norberry  carried  the  day  in  the  matter  of 
sending  Jessie  away  from  Newbury,  as  her  uncle 
had  no  particular  objection  to  her  making  Mrs. 
Wilson  a  visit ;  though  his  acquiescence  in  his 
sister's  plans  were  passive  rather  than  active. 

Jessie  had  hesitated  about  accepting  her  aunt's 
invitation,  because,  for  certain  reasons,  she  felt  un- 


76  MISS  NORBERRY'S  MISTAKE. 

willing  just  at  this  time  to  leave  Newbury.  The 
strongest  of  these  was  that  she  had  not  yet  found 
an  opportunity  to  return  that  letter  to  Doctor 
Carrol,  though  she  had  gone  often  to  his  house 
hoping  to  do  so.  Of  late,  this  had  proved  almost 
a  nightmare  to  her,  for  its  possession  disturbed 
even  her  sleeping  hours.  She  was  constantly 
dreaming  that  she  had  lost  it,  when  she  would  be 
in  great  trouble  lest  some  one  might  find  it  who 
would  carry  it  to  her  aunt ;  her  care  for  it  even 
coloring  her  unconscious  hours.  For  a  time  she 
had  carried  it  about  her  person,  in  order  that  she 
might  have  it  at  hand,  should  an  opportunity  occur 
for  returning  it ;  but  finally  the  envelope  had  be- 
come so  worn  as  to  make  her  fear  that  it  would 
not  much  longer  screen  from  prying  eyes  the 
secret  committed  to  its  pages.  Then  for  its  safer 
keeping,  she  had  locked  it  up  in  one  of  the  drawers 
of  her  bureau  ;  but  she  had  since  been  constantly 
haunted  with  the  fear  that  her  Aunt  Helen  would 
demand  the  key  to  its  hiding-place.  This,  to  be 
sure,  had  not  happened  yet  ;  and  since  this  letter 
had  been  consigned  to  its  present  sanctuary  it  had 
been  removed  only  on  the  occasions  of  her  visits 
to  the  doctor's  wife. 


MISS    NORBERRY  S    MISTAKE.  // 

These  visits  had  grown  more  frequent  of  late, 
for  the  desire  to  get  that  letter  out  of  her  hands 
had  come  to  be  an  absorbing  one. 

Since  the  unlucky  day  when  it  had  been  forced 
upon  her,  she  had  never  for  a  moment  seen  Doc- 
tor Carrol  alone.  Now,  if  she  went  away  from 
Newbury,  how  was  she  to  accomplish  her  purpose  ? 
But  was  not  farther  resistance  useless  ?  Fate 
seemed  forcing  her  on  to  the  carrying  out  of  the 
doctor's  trust.  If  she  went  away,  she  must  take 
this  letter  with  her,  as  she  was  in  honor  bound  to 
shield  its  secret,  and  if  she  left  it  at  home  her 
aunt  would  be  sure  sooner  or  later  to  come  upon  it. 

Mrs.  Wilson  had  been  quick  to  respond  to  Miss 
Norberry's  intimation  that  Jessie  needed  a  change, 
and  had  written  her  niece  that  she  was  lonely,  and 
desired  her  company,  putting  in  a  strong  claim  to 
the  right  of  at  least  a  part  of  her  time. 

That  her  relatives  in  Newbury  had  been  strange- 
ly ready  to  give  her  up  did  not  escape  Jessie, 
though  she  little  suspected  that  her  going  had 
been  a  concerted  plan.  To  be  sure  her  Aunt 
Kitty  cried  when  the  matter  was  settled,  and  her 
cousins  Allan  and  Roger  loudly  protested  against 
this  visit.  But  with  her  uncle  and  Aunt  Helen 


78  MISS  NORBERRY'S  MISTAKE. 

nothing  had  seemed  to  have  any  weight  in  the 
balance  with  her  Aunt  Wilson's  claims. 

It  might  be  her  duty  to  go,  as  her  friends  seemed 
to  think,  but  Jessie  could  not  bring  herself  to  feel 
any  pleasure  in  the  thought  of  this  visit. 

And  a  fortnight  later,  when  she  found  herself 
settled  for  the  winter  in  her  Aunt  Wilson's  house, 
the  world  and  all  its  enjoyments  seemed  as  en- 
tirely shut  away  from  her  as  if  she  had  entered 
upon  a  conventual  life. 

The  great  gloomy  rooms  oppressed  and  stifled 
her,  much  as  the  air  of  a  prison  might,  of  which  it 
most  reminded  her,  and  many  times  a  day  she 
found  herself  longing  for  the  cheery  home  she  had 
left,  and  the  companionship  of  the  wide-awake, 
warm-hearted  little  cousins,  whose  merry  shout  and 
boyish  whistle  would  have  been  music  in  her  ears. 

The  narrow  horizon  which  now  bounded  her 
vision  had  the  effect  of  turning  it  in  upon  herself, 
and  her  world  seemed  to  hold  but  one  object  of 
interest.  She  was,  in  fact,  fast  becoming  a  dis- 
ciple of  Fichte,  without  knowing  anything  of  his 
philosophy  —  in  that  she  was  acquiring  the  habit 
of  referring  all  things  to  herself,  and  judging  every- 
thing by  its  relation  to  her  own  interests. 


MISS    NORBERRV'S    MISTAKE.  79 

Mrs.  Wilson  had  shut  herself  away  from  society 
till  she  was  apparently  forgotten.  The  few  friends 
who  had  formerly  come  often  to  the  house  had 
grown  weary  of  her  chronic  state  of  invalidisni ; 
or  new  interests  absorbed  them ;  and  the  monot- 
ony of  her  life  was,  therefore,  seldom  broken  by 
communication  with  the  outside  world.  Her  well- 
drilled  corps  of  servants  went  about  on  tiptoe,  in 
deference  to  her  invalid  nerves,  and  even  the  inan- 
imate accessories  of  her  life  seemed  to  have  be- 
come imbued  with  the  spirit  of  quietness  which 
had  so  long  reigned  in  the  old  house ;  for  so  much 
as  a  creaking  door  seldom  disturbed  its  peace. 

It  was  the  invalid's  habit  to  lie  all  day  upon  the 
sofa  or  reclining  chair,  where  she  kept  her  maid  in 
constant  attendance.  It  was  wonderful  how  much 
she  found  for  Martha  to  do  about  her  person. 
That  she  must  have  made  a  study  of  this  matter 
of  attendance,  Jessie  felt  sure,  not  realizing  how 
proficient  in  this  respect  one  may  become  in  years 
of  practice. 

When  Mrs.  Wilson  was  not  suffering  from  any 
one  of  the  host  of  ills  with  which  she  thought  her- 
self afflicted,  Jessie  read  aloud  to  her  two  hours 
every  morning,  and  again  in  the  afternoon  if  the 


8o  MISS  NORBERRY'S  MISTAKE. 

invalid  wished.  The  books  her  aunt  preferred 
were  not  often  such  as  she  would  have  chosen,  but 
she  was  glad  of  any  occupation  that  should  draw 
her  away  from  herself. 

In  her  private  communings  at  this  time  (and  they 
were  frequent),  Jessie  accused  herself  of  having 
no  spirit.  Not  another  girl  of  her  acquaintance 
would  endure  such  a  life  as  she  was  leading.  Sev- 
eral times  she  resolved  to  write  her  uncle  that  she 
could  not  stay  longer,  but  the  days  went  by,  and 
she  did  not  put  it  in  practice.  But  had  it  not  been 
for  the  vocal  and  painting  lessons,  for  which  she 
went  out  several  times  a  week,  she  told  herself 
that  nothing  could  have  made  her  monotonous  life 
endurable. 

One  day  soon  after  New  Year's,  she  met  Doc- 
tor Forney  in  a  bookstore,  and  he  seemed  much 
struck  by  her  appearance. 

"  Are  you  well  ?  It  seems  to  me  you  are  not 
looking  so,"  he  said  solicitously. 

Jessie  assured  him  of  her  health,  and  then 
rather  listlessly  (as  she  did  everything  in  these 
days)  asked  him  to  call  and  see  her  at  her  aunt's, 
where  she  was  spending  the  winter. 

He   promised    to  do    so,  and   a  few  days  later 


MISS  NORBERRY'S  MISTAKE.  81 

called  and  invited  her  to  attend  a  concert  with  him 
the  following  evening,  an  invitation  which  she 
gladly  accepted. 

After  this  she  saw  him  frequently,  till  it  seemed 
as  if  some  occult  power  was  drawing  them  to- 
gether ;  so  sure  were  they  to  meet  if  Jessie 
stepped  out  of  doors..  And  she  was  going  out 
more  of  late,  having  determined  to  hunt  up  some 
old  school  friends  whom  she  knew  would  have 
called  upon  her  ere  this,  had  they  learned  of 
her  being  in  the  city.  But  whatever  direction  she 
chanced  to  take,  going  or  coming,  she  was  almost 
certain  to  see  the  doctor,  till  she  came  to  regard 
him  as  less  a  man  of  leisure  than  she  had  sup- 
posed. 

The  winter  had  finally  worn  away,  and  spring 
opened,  but  Jessie  was  not  recalled  home  as  she 
had  expected.  She  could  not  see  that  she  was 
doing  her  Aunt  Wilson  any  particular  good  by  re- 
maining ;  but  that  lady  would  not  hear  of  her 
going  back  to  Newbury. 

As  the  days  went  by,  Jessie  thought  that  the 
morrow  would  surely  bring  her  the  word  of  release  ; 
but  it  did  not  come.  She  saw  her  uncle  occasion- 
ally, when  business  obliged  him  to  take  a  hurried 


82  MISS  NORBERRY'S   MISTAKE. 

trip  to  the  city  ;  but  he  said  not  a  word  about  her 
going  back,  and  pride  would  not  allow  her  to  sug- 
gest it.  She  had  supposed  they  would  miss  her, 
and  would  rebel  at  her  staying  longer  away  ;  but 
when  no  message  to  that  effect  came,  she  told  her- 
self that  she  did  not  mind,  that  it  was  just  as  well ; 
but  nevertheless  she  was  conscious  of  a  dull  pain 
at  her  heart  which  the  bright  spring  weather  did 
not  help  to  ease.  How  she  longed  at  this  time  for 
a  sight  of  the  fair  green  fields  of  old  Newbury,  and 
the  delightful  wooded  haunts  with  which  she  was 
familiar  ;  its  sheltered  dells  and  breezy  uplands 
were  all  remembered  now. 

In  fancy  she  could  see  them  waking  to  new  life 
and  beauty  in  the  soft  spring  sunshine,  where  the 
dainty  nun-like  flowers  were  making  their  escape 
from  Winter's  cloistered  cell. 

She  knew  them  all,  and  just  where  to  look  for 
them.  There  was  the  frosted  silver  mitrewert,  the 
waxen  cassandra,  the  creamy  gold-thread,  the  starry 
wintergreen,  with  a  host  of  others  ;  the  thought  of 
which  made  her  sick  at  heart,  that  these  sweet 
harbingers  of  the  summer  were  not  to  be  wel- 
comed by  herself,  while  the  dusty  city  streets 
grew  daily  more  intolerable. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION. 

FROM  considering  always  her  own  comfort, 
^^  Mrs.  Wilson  had  grown  regardless  of  that 
of  others  ;  but  if  there  was  any  one  in  the  world 
whom  she  loved  beside  herself,  it  was  her  niece, 
and  she  could  not  help  seeing  that  Jessie  drooped 
from  day  to  day.  What  was  the  matter  ?  She 
had  not  used  to  be  so  listless  and  apathetic  —  in 
fact,  the  girl's  buoyant  spirits  had  been  something 
of  a  cross  to  the  weak  and  nervous  woman.  Was 
it  simply  that  Jessie  was  growing  older  —  laying 
aside  her  brisk,  bright  girlish  ways,  and  taking 
on  a  more  quiet  habit  of  manner  and  thought  ? 
Mrs.  Wilson  could  but  regret  the  change  whatever 
had  caused  it ;  she  would  gladly  have  seen  again 
in  her  niece  the  sparkle  and  animation  of  former 
days. 

Though  Jessie  never  confessed  of  being  ill,  her 
aunt  finally  began  to  realize  that  she  must  be  so  ; 
and  when  this  had  fairly  entered  into  her  con- 

83 


84  A  SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION. 

sciousness  (since  it  was  hard  for  the  woman  to 
understand  that  any  one  but  herself  could  be  sick) 
she  was  aroused,  and  sent  at  once  for  her  phy- 
sician. 

Doctor  Bowen  came,  said  Jessie  was  a  little  run 
down  —  that  she  needed  a  tonic,  and  after  writing 
a  prescription,  predicted  that  she  would  be  all 
right  again  in  a  few  days. 

Jessie  swallowed  without  remonstrance,  the  tea- 
spoonful  of  medicine  which  her  aunt  prepared  for 
her  ;  but  on  taking  the  bottle  to  her  room  at  night, 
as  her  relative  advised,  she  threw  the  remainder 
out  of  the  window. 

On  Doctor  Bowen's  second  visit  (for  Mrs.  Wil- 
son not  being  satisfied  with  her  niece's  progress 
toward  recovery  had  called  the  doctor  in  again) 
that  fossilized  piece  of  humanity  wrote  another 
prescription  —  made  the  original  remark  that  it 
was  very  warm  for  the  time  of  year,  which,  by  the 
way,  was  the  middle  of  June,  and  seasonable 
weather,  and  in  another  moment  would  have  been 
gone,  but  in  crossing  the  room  for  his  hat  he  had 
encountered  a  pair  of  brown  eyes  which  had  been 
studying  him  intently.  Whether  it  was  in  them 
that  he  found  .the  inspiration  of  a  new  idea,  or  in 


A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION.  85 

the  crown  of  his  hat  which  for  a  moment  engaged 
his  attention,  it  is  impossible  to  say,  since  petri- 
faction is  subject  to  no  known  laws  ;  but  he  had 
certainly  found  one  somewhere,  as  he  the  next 
moment  proved. 

"  Perhaps  a  change  would  be  well  for  Miss 
Jessie;  better  than  medicine,"  he  said.  "Old 
folks  like  ourselves,"  bowing  low  to  Mrs.  Wilson, 
"who  have  been  longer  in  the  world,  and  who 
have  become,  so  to  speak,  acclimated  to  it,  rub 
along  very  well  in  the  same  old  groove  ;  but  young 
people  should  have  an  occasional  change." 

Doctor  Bowen's  fee  was  five  dollars,  and  this 
time  he  had  earned  his  money,  for  his  words  set 
Mrs.  Wilson  thinking  ;  the  result  of  which  was 
that  she  determined  to  take  Jessie  to  the  moun- 
tains. She  did  not  come  to  this  decision  hastily, 
nor  without  counting  the  cost  to  herself  in  giving 
up  the  quiet  comfort  of  her  home  for  the  noise  and 
discomfort  of  a  public  hostelry.  But  she  could 
not  see  Jessie  sink  into  a  state  of  invalidism,  as 
she  seemed  to  be  doing.  If  it  were  change  she 
needed,  she  should  have  it  at  any  cost.  Besides, 
if  this  condition  of  things  continued,  and  her 
Newbury  friends  learned  of  her  ill  health,  she 


86  A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION. 

would  be  taken  from  the  city  at  once,  and  perhaps 
not  allowed  again  to  visit  her.  Looking  at  it 
either  way,  matters  were  assuming  a  really  serious 
turn,  she  felt,  and  something  should  be  done  im- 
mediately. 

Jessie  listened  to  her  aunt's  proposition  without 
manifesting  either  surprise  or  interest  in  it.  But 
this  apathy  on  her  part  proved  just  the  spur  Mrs. 
Wilson  needed,  and  now  that  she  had  some  one  to 
think  of  beside  herself,  that  lady  found  herself  able 
to  do  many  things  which  a  few  weeks  before  she 
would  have  thought  impossible. 

It  was  getting  late  in  the  season,  and  there  was 
some  delay  in  securing  desirable  accommodations  ; 
but  finally  arrangements  were  made  which  prom- 
ised to  be  satisfactory  in  every  way. 

As  the  time  of  leaving  approached,  Jessie 
roused  herself  and  began  to  show  some  interest 
in  the  preparations,  occasionally  suggesting  some- 
thing they  might  need  during  a  summer's  sojourn, 
for  Mrs.  Wilson  intended  to  remain  away  till  cool 
weather.  She  did  not  believe  in  leaving  the  city 
for  a  few  weeks.  "  If  one  went  at  all,  one  should 
stay,"  she  said,  in  making  her  arrangements. 

Jessie  brightened  up  so  much  the  last  few  days 


A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION.  87 

they  were  at  home,  that  her  aunt  almost  regretted 
her  determination  to  go  away,  and  felt  she  had 
perhaps  been  in  too  great  haste,  since  her  niece 
might  have  been  just  as  well  to  remain  in  the  city 
now  that  she  had  grown  somewhat  accustomed  to 
the  heat. 

But  the  invalid  knew  there  was  no  drawing  back 
now,  since  matters  had  gone  too  far.  They  finally 
left  the  city  on  a  sultry  day  early  in  July,  and  the 
same  night  found  themselves  safe  at  the  Glen 
House  with  the  grand  old  mountains  all  about 
them. 

Their  pleasant  airy  quarters  at  this  hotel  proved 
far  more  comfortable  than  Mrs.  Wilson  had  an- 
ticipated, but  still  it  was  some  little  time  before 
she  entirely  ceased  to  mourn  for  home  privileges. 

"  The  Bussells  and  Whitneys  are  here,  Aunty, 
but  I  must  beg  to  be  excused  from  delivering  the 
numberless  messages  they  sent  you.  But  you  are 
to  give  me  up  to  them  and  have  no  care  —  and 
they  will  only  be  too  happy,  etc.,  etc.  How  are 
you  feeling  this  morning  ? "  Jessie  here  suddenly 
remembered  that  she  had  not  yet  inquired  for  her 
aunt's  health,  an  omission  which  was  sure  to  be 
visited  upon  her ;  and  for  which  she  tried  to  atone 


88  A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION. 

by  stooping  and  kissing  the  worn  face  upon  the 
pillow. 

"As  well  as  I  could  expect,  after  what  I  went 
through  .yesterday.  Last  night  there  was  not  a 
spot  in  my  head  that  did  not  feel  sore,  and  this 
morning  it  is  not  much  better.  But  I'm  glad  you 
have  found  friends  who  will  go  about  with  you, 
for  it  is  more  than  likely  I  shall  not  be  up  again  for 
the  summer." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  you  will,  Aunty.  You  are  tired  this 
morning,  of  course,  after  such  a  long  ride,  but  you 
will  be  down-stairs  in  a  few  days.  The  air  here  is 
sure  to  invigorate  you,  and  I  expect  you'll  make 
the  ascent  of  Mount  Washington  before  we  go 
home.  I  feel  like  another  creature,  just  being 
here  a  few  hours." 

Mrs.  Wilson's  only  response  was  an  audible 
sigh,  and  a  few  minutes  later  Jessie  quitted  the 
room,  feeling  the  utter  futility  of  trying  to  con- 
vince so  confirmed  an  invalid  that  life  held  any- 
thing better  for  her. 

Her  prediction  that  her  aunt  would  be  down- 
stairs in  a  few  days,  was  not  verified  ;  for  it  was  a 
fortnight  before  that  lady  thought  herself  able  to 
accomplish  this  feat.  But  from  the  day  she  first 


A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION.  89 

did  so  she  took  her  place  among  the  guests  of  the 
house,  appearing  regularly  at  her  meals,  and  laid 
entirely  aside  her  invalid  habits. 

In  the  meantime,  Jessie  had  entered  with  all  the 
zest  of  youth  and  a  light  heart  into  the  amuse- 
ments which  their  delightful  summer  retreat  af- 
forded. Mountain  air  and  cheerful  company  had 
proved  all  the  tonic  she  needed  ;  and  no  one  seeing 
her  now  would  have  dreamed  that  her  health  had 
so  lately  been  a  serious  consideration. 

Her  old  school  friends,  Jennie  Bussell  and  Maud 
Whitney,  she  found  pleasant,  attractive  girls,  and 
ihough  she  had  mentally  outstripped  them,  there 
were  many  things  they  could  and  did  enjoy  in 
common.  In  her  school  days  she  had  been  often 
invited  to  their  homes,  where  their  parents  had 
treated  her  with  marked  attention.  Then,  she 
had  not  understood  why  she  was  singled  out  for 
their  regard  ;  now  she  knew  that  the  favor  had 
been  shown  to  Allan  Norberry's  daughter.  And 
on  meeting  her  here  they  had  claimed  the  right  to 
chaperone  her  on  the  score  of  old  friendship  ;  a 
right  which  Jessie  did  not  gainsay,  though  she  had 
soon  settled  the  matter  of  chaperonage  by  yielding 
the  right  only  to  her  aunt. 


9O  A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION. 

By  the  middle  of  August  the  hotel  was  full  of 
guests  representing  our  best  American  society, 
but  one  could  not  be  long  in  the  house  without 
learning  that  the  palm  of  belle-ship  had  been 
awarded  to  Jessie  Norberry.  Nor  was  this  girl's 
pre-eminence  in  the  house  due  to  the  fact  of  her 
being  the  daughter  of  the  late  honored  Allan  Nor- 
berry (as  she  would  herself  have  attributed  it)  but 
to  her  beauty,  grace,  and  charming  unconscious- 
ness of  manner  as  well.  No  party  was  complete 
without  Jessie,  who  was  soon  well  up  in  the  topog- 
raphy of  all  that  delightful  region  where  day  after 
day  in  its  sylvan  glades  she  held  the  court  of  a 
Naiad  queen. 

Among  the  guests  at  this  time  were  a  Mr. 
Winter  and  his  daughter.  This  gentleman  was 
something  of  a  recluse,  avoiding  society  generally, 
but  completely  wrapped  up  in  his  child,  whom  he 
could  seldom  bear  to  have  out  of  his  sight. 

Carrie  Winter  was  evidently  devoted  to  her 
father,  and  excused  his  seeming  unsocial  manner, 
from  the  fact  that  he  had  never  gotten  over  her 
mother's  death,  which  had  been  a  very  great  blow 
to  him.  Although  Mr.  Winter  had  been  a  wid- 
ower some  years,  he  still  spoke  of  his  loss  as  a 


A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION.  9! 

recent  one,  and  strangers  supposed  him  passing 
through  the  early  days  of  bereavement. 

Jessie  had  from  their  first  meeting  been  very 
much  drawn  to  Carrie  Winter,  who  was  a  sin- 
gularly bright  and  interesting  girl,  and  their 
acquaintance  had  ripened  into  a  warm  friendship. 

Mr.  Winter  had  come  to  the  Glen  only  for  a 
few  days,  but  finding  that  his  daughter  had  soon 
made  friends,  and  that  she  was  enjoying  herself 
here,  he  had  extended  his  stay  from  week  to  week, 
when  he  was  suddenly  recalled  home  in  the  midst 
of  the  season  by  business  affairs  which  needed  his 
attention. 

On  the  last  evening  that  Jessie  and  her  friend 
Carrie  would  be  together,  they  had  gone  to  one  of 
the  parlors  for  a  game  of  whist.  This  was  about 
the  only  amusement  in  which  Mr.  Winter  in- 
dulged, and  his  daughter  had  proposed  it,  seeing 
that  the  time  was  hanging  heavily  on  his  hands. 

The  band  was  playing  just  outside  the  windows, 
and  a  throng  of  promenaders  were  surging  through 
the  halls,  while  the  little  party  of  whist  players 
were  intent  upon  their  game. 

Jessie  who  sat  with  her  back  toward  the 
door,  was  aware  that  a  number  of  persons  had 


92  A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION. 

entered  the  room  by  the  increased  hum  of  voices, 
and  she  heard  some  one  near  her,  say,  "  What  a 
regal-looking  woman  !  "  but  it  was  her  turn  to  play 
at  the  moment,  and  she  did  not  look  up.  The  next, 
she  heard  her  name  spoken,  and  turning,  saw  her 
friend  Mrs.  Carrol. 

"  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  you  from  the  piazza,  and 
was  sure  it  must  be  Jessie  Norberry,  though  I 
could  hardly  believe  in  such  good  fortune,"  said 
that  lady,  who,  our  heroine  now  saw,  was  accom- 
panied by  her  husband  and  son. 

Jessie  had  no  sooner  greeted  these  friends  than 
she  turned  to  introduce  them  to  her  party.  But 
Mr.  Winter  had  recognized  Doctor  Carrol,  and 
held  out  his  hand  with  a  cordial  welcome  for  his 
old  acquaintance.  "  Doctor  Carrol !  Well,  if  this 
is  not  a  surprise  ! "  he  was  saying,  his  face  alight 
with  satisfaction. 

But  why  did  Doctor  Carrol  draw  suddenly  back, 
as  if  the  figure  before  him  had  been  a  ghost  ? 
Certainly  there  was  nothing  repellent  in  the  appear- 
ance of  the  man  who  had  so  heartily  welcomed 
him.  And  why  did  the  doctor's  cheek  suddenly 
blanch,  and  his  limbs  tremble  so  they  would  hardly 
support  him  ? 


A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION.  93 

If  the  hand  extended  to  him  had  been  a  scorpion, 
he  could  hardly  have  regarded  it  with  greater  horror. 
Evidently  he  had  received  a  shock  of  some  kind, 
for  his  form  suddenly  swayed  back  into  the  arms 
of  his  son,  who,  hastily  apologizing  for  his  father's 
weak  state,  bore  him  away  as  if  he  had  been  a 
child. 

Jessie  at  once  excused  herself  to  her  friends,  and 
followed  Mrs.  Carrol,  from  whom  she  learned  that 
they  had  arrived  at  the  Glen  late  that  afternoon. 
It  seemed  the  doctor  had  insisted  upon  coming 
down-stairs,  though  his  wife  had  feared  him  too 
much  fatigued  already  from  his  journey. 

Mrs.  Carrol  was  quite  unnerved  by  what  had 
occurred,  and,  for  the  first  time  since  her  acquaint- 
ance with  that  lady,  Jessie  saw  her  give  way  to 
tears. 

"  I  am  not  often  such  a  child  as  to  cry,"  she 
said,  apologizing  for  her  momentary  weakness, 
"but  I  have  been  under  quite  a  nervous  strain 
since  we  started.  It  was,  of  course,  a  doubtful  ex- 
periment, taking  the  doctor  from  home,  but  his 
bodily  health  was  suffering,  and  we  hoped  that  a 
change  might  build  him  up.  I  am  so  glad  to  find 
you  here,  dear  child,"  she  said,  putting  her  arms 


94  A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION. 

about  Jessie's  neck  as  she  added,  "  I  feel  as  if  you 
had  been  sent  to  me." 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  glad  to  be  here  if  my  presence 
can  be  any  comfort  to  you,"  Jessie  returned 
heartily. 

They  had  by  this  time  reached  Mrs.  Carrol's 
apartments,  and  that  lady  went  at  once  to  her  hus- 
band, promising  to  send  Jessie  word  of  his  condi- 
tion when  he  should  have  been  got  to  bed. 

Since  her  presence  seemed  to  be  a  matter  of 
satisfaction  to  Mrs.  Carrol,  Jessie  determined  to 
remain  near  till  her  anxiety  as  to  this  attack  was 
relieved ;  so  taking  a  seat  in  the  broad  window-sill 
which  commanded  a  view  of  the  hall,  she  waited 
for  the  message  which  the  doctor's  wife  had  prom- 
ised to  send  her,  and  presently  fell  into  a  revery 
which  made  her  entirely  oblivious  to  her  outward 
surroundings. 

She  had  suddenly  remembered  that  letter  locked 
up  in  an  escritoire  in  her  Aunt  Wilson's  house. 
If  Mr.  Carrol  were  to  die,  she  would  be  in  honor 
bound  to  carry  out  the  trust  he  had  laid  upon  her. 
And  he  had  looked  so  like  death  a  moment  since ! 
What  a  frail  tenure  he  must  hold  on  life  to  have 
been  so  easily  overcome  ;  but  by  what  ?  Perhaps 


A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION.  95 

it  was  a  stroke.  Jessie  was  sure  she  had  heard  of 
people  being  stricken  down  in  this  way,  and  even 
if  he  lived  he  might  never  again  have  the  power 
of  speech  or  consciousness.  In  that  case  she 
could  not  hope  for  a  release  from  her  obligation. 

"  Why,  Miss  Jessie,  have  you  been  waiting  here 
all  this  time  ?  My  mother  wished  me  to  find  you 
and  say  that  my  father  seems  quiet  and  inclined 
to  sleep  ;  so  you  are  to  have  no  further  anxiety  on 
his  account." 

A  white  dress  in  the  embrasure  of  the  hall  win- 
dow had  caught  Milton  Carrol's  eye  on  his  way  to 
the  broad  staircase,  and  something  in  the  attitude 
of  the  wearer  arrested  his  steps.  A  second  glance 
had  shown  him  that  he  need  go  no  further ;  but 
Jessie  had  not  seen  him  till  he  was  close  upon  her. 

The  color  deepened  on  her  cheek,  and  a  sud- 
den suffusion  dimmed  the  soft  eyes  raised  to  his 
face,  as  she  said  : 

"  Oh  !  I  am  so  glad.  Then  you  do  not  think 
this  attack  will  have  any  serious  consequences  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  do  not  anticipate  any  more  trouble.  I 
think  he  will  be  all  right  by  morning." 

Milton  Carrol  little  dreamed  how  like  a  reprieve 
his  words  had  seemed  to  the  girl  beside  him. 


g6  A   SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION. 

"  But  I  am  sorry  this  should  have  happened  to 
mar  your  evening's  pleasure,"  he  continued.  "  If 
I  see  you  looking  so  grave  and  anxious  again  as 
you  were  just  now,  I  shall  regret  that  we  came 
here."  The  next  moment  he  had  offered  Jessie 
his  arm,  and  asked  if  he  should  not  take  her  back 
to  her  friends. 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  you  did  come  here,"  was 
her  smiling  response,  as  she  accepted  his  proffered 
arm.  "  But  your  father  must  have  been  much  bet- 
ter than  when  I  left  Newbury,  for  you  to  think  of 
going  from  home  with  him?"  she  added  question- 
ingly. 

"  Yes  ;  there  has  appeared  of  late  very  little  the 
matter  with  him,  but  a  general  debility.  It  seemed 
as  if  a  change  might  be  of  benefit,  and  as  the  Glen 
was  always  one  of  his  chosen  summer  haunts,  we 
determined  to  bring  him  here.  It  was  most  un- 
fortunate that  he  should  have  met  his  old  friend, 
Mr.  Winter,  though  I  cannot  imagine  why  it  should 
have  had  such  an  effect  upon  him.  That  is,  unless 
Mr.  Winter  is  in  some  way  connected  with  that 
page  in  my  father's  life  of  which  I  have  not  the 
reading." 

For  a  moment  after  this  Milton  Carrol  seemed 


A  SUCCESSFUL  PRESCRIPTION.        9/ 

lost  in  revery,  then  he  said  decidedly  :  "  It  will  be 
necessary  now  for  us  to  get  away  from  here  as 
soon  as  possible,  since  we  cannot  risk  his  meeting 
Mr.  Winter  again,  as  he  would  be  liable  to  at  any 
moment  were  we  to  remain.  It  is  very  mysterious," 
he  went  on  ;  "  for  if  there  was  ever  any  unpleasant 
passage  between  them,  it  is  strange  Mr.  Winter 
should  have  met  him  as  he  did." 

"  Yes ;  but  you  need  not  go  from  here  on  Mr. 
Winter's  account,  for  he  leaves  the  Glen  to-mor- 
row morning,"  Jessie  said  quickly. 

"  Going  away  in  the  morning,  is  he  ?  How  long 
have  you  known  of  this  intention  ?  "  Milton  Car- 
rol's face  had  lighted  up  at  the  information,  but 
on  second  thought  it  occurred  to  him  that  Mr. 
Winter  might  be  going  on  his  father's  account. 

"  Since  yesterday  morning,  when  he  received  a 
letter  calling  him  home.  His  plans  were  all  made 
before  he  met  your  father,"  Jessie  replied,  divining 
his  thought. 

"  Then  I  will  try  and  see  him  to-night,  and  ex- 
plain my  father's  condition,  for  he  seemed  as 
much  mystified  at  what  occurred  this  evening  as 
myself." 

When  they  reached  the  parlor  they  learned  that 


98  A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION. 

Mr.  Winter  and  Carrie  had  a  few  moments  before 
quitted  the  house  for  a  walk. 

Mr.  Carrol  proposed  that  they  should  do  the 
same ;  but  as  his  companion  was  not  in  walking 
costume,  they  confined  their  ramble  to  the  now 
nearly  deserted  piazza,  where,  for  the  next  fifteen 
minutes,  they  paced  back  and  forth  engaged  in 
pleasant  chat. 

"  So  Henry  Germaine  is  here  ?  He  and  I  are  old 
college  chums,"  Mr.  Carrol  said,  when  Jessie  spoke 
of  a  party  with  whom  she  had  that  afternoon  at- 
tempted an  adventurous  feat  of  mountain  climb- 
ing. 

From  Mr.  Carrol  she  learned  that  her  Newbury 
friends  were  in  open  revolt  at  her  long  absence ; 
but  to  his  declaration  that  everybody  there  missed 
her,  and  would  be  glad  to  have  her  back,  she  said 
nothing,  feeling  that  her  relatives,  at  least,  had 
only  to  say  the  word ;  and  they  were  strangely 
silent. 

"  How  majestically  Mt.  Washington  seems  to 
look  down  upon  the  lesser  hills  to-night,"  Jessie 
said,  attempting  to  change  the  subject. 

"Yes,"  was  Mr.  Carrol's  absent  reply,  giving 
only  a  glance  in  the  direction  of  the  monarch  of 


A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION.  99 

that  region,  then  returning  at  once  to  the  subject 
uppermost  in  his  mind. 

"  I  heard  that  you  were  ill,  and  away  travelling 
for  your  health,  but  in  what  part  of  the  world  my 
informant  did  not  know."  Mr.  Carrol  did  not  add 
that  this  had  come  from  her  cousin  Allan  ;  or  that 
he  had  ventured  the  belief  that  his  cousin  Jessie 
had  gone  out  West.  "  So  I  little  expected  to  meet 
you  here  ;  but  have  you  really  been  ill  ?  I  think  I 
never  saw  you  looking  better,"  with  a  glance  at 
the  sweet  bright  face  that  just  came  to  his  shoul- 
der. 

"  111  ?  O,  no  !  not  really.  One  cannot  believe 
all  one  hears,"  was  Jessie's  smiling  response. 

"  Then  perhaps  I  am  not  to  believe  another  re- 
port which  I  have  heard,"  Mr.  Carrol  returned,  re- 
garding her  closely. 

"That  depends,  of  course,  upon  what  it  was." 
Jessie  spoke  lightly,  taking  his  words  for  banter. 

"  I  heard,"  —  Mr.  Carrol  hesitated,  as  if  rinding  it 
difficult  to  say  what  he  would  with  those  laughing 
eyes  meeting  his  own,  —  "I  heard  you  were  about 
to  double  your  joys.  That  you  were  meditating 
matrimony." 

"And  who  was  the  happy  man  ?  "  Jessie  asked, 


TOO  A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION. 

a  slight  flush  mantling  her  cheek,  which  did  not 
escape  her  companion. 

"Who  but  Doctor  Forney,  the  great  scholar 
and  writer,  could  hope  to  be  the  successful  aspir- 
ant to  Miss  Jessie  Norberry's  hand?"  Mr.  Carrol 
returned  with  a  touch  of  sarcasm. 

Jessie  laughed  gayly.  "  Doctor  Forney,  indeed  ! 
No  ;  I  have  not  that  honor,  past  or  prospective," 
she  said,  and  then  became  suddenly  thoughtful. 

Had  the  doctor's  name  really  been  associated 
with  hers  in  any  such  rumor  ?  She  had  never 
thought  of  such  a  result  when  availing  herself  of 
his  kindness.  To  be  sure  he  had  been  her  only 
escort  the  last  winter,  but  the  times  when  she 
had  been  out  with  him  could  be  counted  upon  the 
fingers  of  one  hand. 

Had  her  aunt  Helen  heard  this  ?  Jessie  now 
remembered  that  in  every  letter  this  lady  had 
written  her  there  had  been  some  inquiry  about  the 
doctor.  Had  she  been  kept  in  Boston  that  she 
might  meet  him  ?  If  so,  she  had  only  her  aunt 
Helen  to  thank  for  her  exile. 

This  thought  brought  Jessie's  lips  firmly  to- 
gether, while  the  homely  old  proverb  of  the  horse 
and  the  water  came  forcibly  to  her  mind. 


A    SUCCESSFUL    PRESCRIPTION.  IOI 

That  Doctor  Forney  had  only  thought  to  show 
kindness  to  her  father's  daughter,  she  felt  sure  ; 
and  in  her  late  lonely  and  isolated  life  in  her  Aunt 
Wilson's  house,  she  had  been  very  glad  of  the  lit- 
tle amusement  he  had  thrown  in  her  way. 

Jessie  was  hardly  aware  of  the  complete  silence 
which  had  fallen  between  herself  and  her  com- 
panion, till  Milton  Carrol  said  with  some  con- 
straint : 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  go  in  ?  It  may  be 
cool  for  you  here  ?  " 

It  was  on  Jessie's  lips  to  disclaim  against  any 
such  wish,  when  she  heard  Carrie  Winter  say  : 

"  Why,  here  are  Jessie  and  Mr.  Carrol !  "  and 
the  next  moment  she  was  borne  off  by  her  friend, 
who  wished  her  opinion  of  the  selection  of  some 
photographic  views  she  had  just  made. 

Going  with  Carrie  to  the  parlor,  Jessie  left  Mr. 
Carrol  and  his  father's  old  friend  on  the  piazza  to- 
gether. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

BY    CHANCE,    THE    USUAL    WAY. 

AN  hour  later  Milton  Carrol  was  indulging  in 
a  revery.  One  light  after  another  went 
suddenly  out  in  the  hotel,  as  its  inmates  sought  the 
night's  repose,  but  the  man  pacing  so  thoughtfully 
one  of  the  long  piazzas  was  in  no  mood  for  sleep. 

The  starry  heavens  hung  like  a  shining  disk 
above  his  head,  while  the  grand  solemn  heights, 
looming  about  him,  were  sending  forth  their  sweet 
aromatic  odors  upon  the  night  air.  But  it  was  not 
with  Nature  that  Milton  Carrol  was  communing, 
though  he  was  not  insensible  to  her  influence,  but 
with  his  own  heart. 

Why  had  Fate  ordained  that  he  should  meet  Jes- 
sie Norberry  here  ?  He  had  not  sought  the  meet- 
ing, and  no  prescience  of  danger  had  warned  him 
off. 

What  was  this  mysterious  attraction  to  which 
every  fibre  of  his  being  responded  ?  He  had  been 

102 


BY    CHANCE,    THE    USUAL    WAY.  1 03 

conscious  of  a  great  heart  throb  of  delight  when 
he  had  so  unexpectedly  come  upon  her ;  now  he 
knew  that  it  would  have  been  far  better  for  his 
future  peace  of  mind  that  they  had  not  met. 

The  way  in  which  she  had  parried  his  question 
about  her  engagement,  had  not  deceived  him.  It 
was  quite  natural  that  she  should  treat  the  matter 
as  she  had  —  in  fact  it  was  the  only  way  in  which 
she  could  have  met  it,  he  reasoned,  since  he  be- 
lieved now  that  the  announcement  of  it  had  been 
premature.  But  that  she  was  interested  in  the 
doctor,  and  that  she  had  found  his  society  a  suffi- 
cient reason  for  so  prolonging  her  stay  in  the  city, 
was  with  Milton  Carrol  a  foregone  conclusion. 
When  she  had  so  readily  denied  there  being  any- 
thing between  herself  and  the  doctor,  he  had  for  a 
brief  moment  hugged  the  hope  with  which  for 
months  he  had  been  battling  ;  but  her  sudden  and 
constrained  silence  afterward  (as  if  she  were  imme- 
diately conscious  of  having  gone  too  far  in  her 
denial)  had  seemed  to  confute  her  words.  Then, 
too,  had  not  his  information  of  this  attachment 
come  from  a  member  of  her  own  family  ?  Who 
should  know  how  matters  stood  between  Jessie 
and  the  doctor  if  her  relatives  did  not  ?  No,  she 


IO4  BY   CHANCE,    THE   USUAL   WAY. 

was  not  free,  at  all  events,  though  she  might  not 
yet  be  bound  by  a  positive  engagement. 

Well,  since  chance  had  thrown  them  together, 
he  would  make  the  most  of  his  opportunity.  He 
would  at  least  have  the  joy  of  meeting  her  daily, 
and  sunning  himself  in  the  rare  magnetic  presence 
in  which  his  whole  nature  seemed  to  expand,  till 
the  world  was  an  Eden  in  its  possibilities  of  hap- 
piness. This  prospect  opened  delightful  vistas  to 
his  imagination,  and  in  no  small  degree  served  to 
soothe  his  perturbed  feelings,  finally  sending  him 
to  his  rest  to  dream  of  her  to  whom  he  had  un- 
wittingly surrendered  his  whole  heart. 

It  was  in  an  unusually  troubled  frame  of  mind 
that  Jessie  left  the  hotel,  a  few  days  later,  for  her 
morning  stroll.  That  letter  of  Doctor  Carrol's 
seemed  destined  to  be  the  b$te  noiroi  her  life.  He 
would  soon  leave  his  room  now,  and  she  would  be 
liable  at  any  moment  to  meet  him  in  hall  or  corri- 
dor, when,  if  she  only  had  it  with  her,  she  would 
be  able  to  return  it  to  him. 

All  the  morning  she  had  been  revolving  plans 
by  which  it  might  be  sent  to  her ;  but  none  of 
them  had  finally  proved  feasible.  It  would  not  do 
to  write  to  one  of  the  servants  to  forward  it,  as 


BY    CHANCE,    THE    USUAL    WAY.  10$ 

that  would  rouse  their  curiosity,  and  it  would  not 
be  a  difficult  matter  for  any  one  interested  to  do 
so,  to  learn  the  contents  of  that  envelope.  She 
could  not  go  for  it  herself  without  being  subjected 
to  questions  from  her  aunt,  which  she  would  be 
unable  to  answer ;  nor  could  she  think  of  any  one 
to  whom  she  could  entrust  such  a  commission. 

It  was,  she  felt,  very  unfortunate  that  she  had 
left  it ;  since,  if  she  only  had  it  now  in  her  posses- 
sion, she  might  any  day  be  free  of  the  whole  mis- 
erable matter.  It  seemed  as  if  an  evil  fate  had 
pursued  her  ever  since  that  letter  came  into  her 
hands.  Why  had  she  been  singled  out  for  a  trust 
which  had  well-nigh  robbed  her  of  all  peace  of 
mind  ?  She  would  bear  this  burden  no  longer. 
If  an  appeal  to  the  doctor,  which  she  would  make 
on  the  first  opportunity,  did  not  release  her,  she 
would  lay  the  whole  matter  before  his  wife,  as  she 
ought  to  have  done  in  the  first  place. 

Jessie  had  now  reached  one  of  her  favorite 
haunts  ;  and  here  she  threw  herself  down  in  its 
leafy  seclusion,  while  mentally  formulating  her 
purpose.  So  absorbed  was  she  in  thought,  as  not 
to  notice  that  any  one  was  approaching  her  re- 
treat, till  she  heard  voices  in  the  road  just  below. 


IO6  BY    CHANCE,    THE    USUAL    WAY. 

The  speaker  she  knew  at  once  to  be  Maud  Whit- 
ney, though  she  could  not  see  her,  and  she  plainly 
heard  her  say  : 

"  She  is  the  most  fortunate  girl  I  ever  knew. 
Some  people  seem  to  take  all  the  prizes  in  life. 
Here  she  has  beauty,  wealth,  social  position,  in 
fact,  everything  one  could  desire;  all  these,  and 
never  a  care  or  a  trouble  in  the  world,"  Maud  was 
saying. 

"  Was  it  nothing  to  have  lost  her  mother  when 
she  was  a  mere  child  ? " 

Jessie  recognized  this  last  voice  as  Mrs.  Whit- 
ney's, and  she  was  about  to  make  her  presence 
known  to  mother  and  daughter  when,  to  her  great 
surprise,  she  found  it  was  of  herself  they  were 
speaking. 

"What  does  Jessie  Norberry  remember  of  her 
mother  ?  She  was  too  young  to  miss  her.  That 
loss  was  more  than  made  up  to  her  in  her  father. 
The  prestige  of  his  name  was  no  small  inheritance. 
No  :  fortune  has  showered  everything  upon  her, 
even  the  talisman  which  brings  every  one  to  her 
feet." 

They  had  passed  on,  and  for  a  moment  the 
object  of  their  conversation  lay  thoughtfully  study- 


BY    CHANCE,    THE    USUAL    WAY.  IO/ 

ing  the  lace-like  tracery  on  her  white  dress,  made 
by  the  sunlight  falling  through  the  leafy  boughs 
overhead ;  then,  with  a  sigh,  she  said  : 

"Jessie  Norberry,  you  have  never  appreciated 
yourself  or  your  advantages.  'All  fortune's  gifts, 
and  not  a  care  or  trouble  in  the  world.'  That  is 
as  much  as  we  any  of  us  know  of  one  another's 
lives,"  she  mused,  rising  now  to  return. 

Mrs.  Wilson  had  at  first  tried  to  frown  down  her 
niece's  farmer  acquaintance.  She  was  not  at  all 
pleased  at  the  spirit  of  good  comradeship  which 
seemed  fast  growing  between  Jessie  and  Milton 
Carrol.  That  he  was  simply  her  townsman  did 
not  call  for  any  such  evidences  of  friendship  be- 
tween them.  But  even  this  lady's  favor  was  finally 
won  by  the  man  who  carried  himself  with  so  per- 
fect a  poise  as  to  command  the  respect  of  every 
one  who  met  him. 

Still  she  now  and  then  felt  some  uneasiness 
when  she  saw  them  so  constantly  together.  Why 
had  such  a  man  sought  the  seclusion  of  a  town 
like  Newbury  ?  There  he  could  certainly  find  no 
opening  for  his  talents,  and  that  he  should  from 
choice  spend  his  life  at  farming,  this  lady's  con- 
ventional prejudices  did  not  allow  her  to  believe. 


IO8  BY    CHANCE,    THE    USUAL    WAY. 

He  might  be  all  that  he  seemed,  but  she  deter- 
mined to  write  Jessie's  guardian,  and  ascertain  if 
he  were  indeed  a  fitting  friend  for  her.  But  be- 
fore Mrs.  Wilson  had  carried  out  this  purpose  a 
condition  of  matters  had  come  about  which  served 
to  lay  at  rest  any  scruples  she  might  have  enter- 
tained in  regard  to  Mr.  Carrol's  antecedents  ;  but 
of  this  anon. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

JESSIE    RENEWS    HER   PROMISE. 

WHATEVER  had  been  the  occasion  of 
Doctor  Carrol's  nervous  shock,  he  had 
quickly  recovered  from  it,  and  there  was  nothing 
afterward  to  indicate  that  Reason  had  not  complete 
possession  of  her  throne  while  he  remained  at  the 
Glen.  No  one  meeting  him  at  this  time  would  have 
suspected  he  was  the  victim  of  dementia ;  though 
it  was  generally  known  he  was  out  of  health,  which 
accounted  for  his  evident  wish  for  retirement. 

The  doctor's  suite  of  rooms  opened  upon  one  of 
the  piazzas,  and  here  in  a  shady  corner,  made  by 
the  angle  of  the  house,  he  seemed  to  have  found  a 
spot  which  suited  his  fancy,  where,  in  his  easy 
chair,  with  a  book  or  paper  before  him,  he  read  or 
dozed  the  greater  part  of  the  day. 

Coming  upon  him  here  one  morning,  Jessie  found 
the  opportunity  she  had  so  long  sought,  of  speak- 
ing with  him  alone.  After  commenting  upon  the 
fine  view  which  his  position  commanded,  she  at 

109 


I  IO  JESSIE    RENEWS    HER    PROMISE. 

once  broached  the  subject  uppermost  in  her 
thoughts. 

"  Doctor,"  she  said,  "  I  have  wanted  for  a  long 
time  to  tell  you  how  the  letter,  which  you  gave 
me  last  fall,  has  troubled  me.  I  ought  not  to  have 
taken  it  ;  but  I  tried  so  hard  afterward  to  give  it 
back  to  you ;  for,  you  see,  I  am  not  yet  of  age,  and 
so  am  responsible  to  my  guardians.  I  have  no 
right  to  assume  such  a  trust,  since  I  could  not  ful- 
fill it  without  their  consent."  Jessie  had  spoken 
rapidly,  both  from  force  of  feeling,  and  fearing 
interruption  before  she  should  have  explained  her 
position. 

But,  to  her  surprise,  the  doctor  heard  her 
through  without  any  attempt  at  remonstrance. 
When  she  had  finished,  he  said  quietly : 

"  Is  that  all  the  scruple  that  you  have,  child  ? 
You  may  be  a  middle-aged  woman  before  you  are 
called  upon  to  execute  the  trust  to  which  you 
refer.  I  am  not  an  old  man,  though  trouble  has 
given  me  that  appearance  ;  and  I  may  have 
many  years  to  wait  yet  before  I  lay  my  burden 
down." 

The  doctor  spoke  sadly,  and  also  as  if  weary  of 
the  matter  ;  but,  raising  his  eyes,  they  rested  upon 


JESSIE    RENEWS    HER    PROMISE.  I  I  I 

Jessie's  face,  the  pain  and  pallor  of  which  seemed 
to  move  him  strongly. 

"  God  forbid  that  I  should  lay  any  part  of  my 
burden  upon  your  shoulders,  child  ;  rather  consign 
to  the  flames  the  miserable  confession  which,  after 
all,  can  never  wipe  out  the  wrong  done." 

While  the  doctor  was  speaking,  Jessie  was  seized 
with  deep  compunction  that  she  had  ever  hesitated 
about  what  now  seemed  both  a  duty  and  privilege. 

"  Forgive  me,  doctor !  I  will  have  no  more  scru- 
ples ;  I  think  I  did  not  realize  my  trust  and  privi- 
lege. I  will  gladly  give  you  this  assurance  :  that  if 
I  live  I  will  faithfully  carry  out  your  wishes  in  this 
matter,"  she  said  earnestly. 

Her  words  and  manner  evidently  carried  convic- 
tion of  her  changed  purpose  to  the  doctor's  heart, 
for  he  uttered  a  fervent  "  God  bless  you ! "  and 
presently  spoke  of  other  matters  as  if  this  were 
settled. 

Jessie  did  not  again  allude  to  the  letter  in  her 
possession,  nor  did  she  allow  the  secret  between 
them  to  put  any  constraint  upon  her  future  inter- 
course with  the  doctor.  But  in  every  way  in  her 
power,  she  strove  to  show  kindness  to  the  man 
whose  trouble  had  made  him  sacred  in  her  eyes. 


112  JESSIE    RENEWS    HER    PROMISE. 

Mrs.  Carrol  fully  appreciated  these  considerate 
attentions  which  were  so  evidently  pleasing  to  her 
husband,  and  which  distinguished  him  as  the  re- 
cipient. For  Jessie  Norberry's  favor  was  much 
courted  in  the  house,  and  those  whom  she  honored 
with  her  regard  were  considered  furtunate  beyond 
their  fellows. 

Mrs.  Carrol  watched  with  all  a  mother's  interest 
her  son's  growing  attachment  for  Jessie,  whom  she 
had  herself  long  loved  for  her  many  winning 
qualities,  and  whom  she  earnestly  hoped  some 
day  to  welcome  to  a  daughter's  place  in  her  heart. 

It  was  for  Jessie's  sake  that  Mrs.  Carrol  sought 
to  be  friends  with  Mrs.  Wilson  ;  and  the  latter's 
armor  of  reserve  was  not  long  proof  against  the 
genuine  womanly  grace  and  kindliness  of  spirit 
which  distinguished  the  doctor's  wife.  To  know 
Mrs.  Carrol  was  to  love  and  trust  her,  notwith- 
standing the  quiet  dignity  which  forbade  any  over- 
stepping of  the  bounds  which  she  might  herself 
lay  down. 

Not  only  did  the  doctor's  wife  commend  herself 
to  Mrs.  Wilson's  judgment,  as  in  every  respect  a 
lady,  but  she  soon  came  to  fill  her  conception  of  a 
grand  woman.  So,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  add, 


JESSIE    RENEWS    HER    PROMISE.  113 

she  did  not  trouble  herself  about  Milton  Carrol's 
antecedents  while  she  was  daily  growing  to  love 
and  honor  his  mother. 

Though  Mrs.  Wilson's  health  had  much  im- 
proved, there  were  still  days  when  she  shut  her- 
self away  from  every  one,  unless  it.  was  the  doctor's 
wife.  In  her  sympathy  she  found  a  subtle  sweet- 
ness, no  less  pleasant  for  being  new  to  her.  For, 
though  Mrs.  Carrol  herself  possessed  a  fine 
healthy  physique,  she  was  sufficiently  acquainted 
with  disease  to  know  that  Mrs.  Wilson's  trouble 
was  one  of  the  least  understood  of  any  of  the  ills 
to  which  human  flesh  is  heir ;  and,  while  the 
former  was  physically  unconscious  of  possessing 
nerves,  she  knew  her  poor  friend  was  often  sensible 
of  little  else. 

Jessie  soon  noticed  that  her  aunt  came  more 
quickly  than  formerly  out  of  these  attacks  of  pain, 
and  the  girl  felt  convinced  that  her  kind  friend 
had  much  to  do  with  this  improvement. 

One  day  when  Mrs.  Wilson  had  shut  herself  up 
with  a  severe  headache,  affirming  her  inability  to 
sit  up  for  a  moment,  Jessie  was  surprised  to  find 
her,  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon,  enjoying  the 
breeze  on  the  piazza,  and  discussing,  with  a  group 


I  14  JESSIE    RENEWS    HER    PROMISE. 

of  ladies,  a  projected  excursion  for  the  following 
day. 

But  Jessie  felt  that  her  aunt's  sudden  recovery 
was  explained  when  Martha  told  her  that  a  few 
moments  after  her  aunt  had  dismissed  her  from 
the  sick-room,  Mrs.  Carrol  had  come  in  and 
spent  the  morning  with  the  invalid.  That  there 
is  nothing  like  change  of  place  and  thought  for 
nervous  pain,  the  doctor's  wife  had  had  many  oc- 
casions to  prove,  and  she  urged  her  experience 
with  faithful  persistence  in  Mrs.  Wilson's  case. 

As  Jessie  passed  her  friend  at  the  tea-table  that 
evening,  she  stopped  and  whispered  in  her  ear,  — 

"  I  have  always  suspected,  Mrs.  Carrol,  that  you 
were  a  sorceress,  and  now  I  am  sure  of  it ;  but  I 
will  tell  no  one  if  you  will  teach  me  your  art."  To 
which  Mrs.  Carrol  laughingly  responded  :  "  Ah, 
leave  me  my  one  gift.  You  are  sufficiently  endowed 
already  ;  with  any  more  arts  you  would  be  dan- 
gerous." 

"  Then  you  own  to  having  practised  your  spells 
upon  aunty  ?  But  look  at  her  now !  Who  would 
believe  that  only  this  morning  she  was  giving  out 
sick-room  orders  for  a  week." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT. 

THE  young  people  in  the  hotel  were  planning 
to  spend  a  night  on  Mt.  Washington,  in 
order  to  have  the  much  vaunted  experience  of  see- 
ing the  sun  rise  from  that  height,  and  for  more  than 
a  week  this  projected  excursion  had  been  the  main 
topic  of  interest  among  them. 

Having  made  the  ascent  of  this  mountain  once 
during  the  summer,  Jessie  declined  joining  this 
party,  thinking  it  would  trouble  her  aunt  if  she 
were  away  for  the  night.  But  her  friends  were 
not  willing  to  leave  her  behind,  so  they  changed 
their  plans  somewhat,  and  invited  several  of  the 
older  ladies  to  chaperone  them,  and  among  others 
Mrs.  Wilson,  before  whom  they  laid  the  matter, 
declaring  that  all  their  pleasure  would  be  spoiled 
if  she  and  her  niece  were  not  of  the  company. 

Whether  she  was  most  moved  by  the  flattery 
which  would  have  had  her  believe  her  presence 
indispensable  on  this  occasion,  or  the  desire  to 

"5 


I  1 6  NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT. 

give  Jessie  a  surprise  and  pleasure,  as  she  affirmed, 
it  is  certain  she  promised  to  go. 

"  Why,  Aunty,  you  cannot  mean  it.  You  would 
not  be  able  to  bear  the  fatigue  which  would  be 
sure  to  bring  on  one  of  your  headaches,"  Jessie 
exclaimed,  on  learning  her  aunt's  design,  but  with 
strange  persistency  the  latter  adhered  to  her  pur- 
pose, though  half  regretting  having  made  it. 

The  party  bade  fair  to  be  a  gay  one,  and  every 
arrangement  that  could  conduce  to  their  comfort 
was  amply  made.  The  young  people  were  to  ac- 
complish the  ascent  on  horseback,  leaving  their 
elders  to  the  easier,  but  less  romantic  journey  by 
the  carriage  road. 

The  morning  proved  auspicious,  and  the  party 
left  the  Glen  in  high  spirits.  With  the  exception 
of  a  slight  shower  when  about  half-way  up  the 
mountain,  nothing  occurred  to  mar  the  pleasure  of 
the  ascent.  A  few  hours  later  hampers  were  un- 
packed in  the  Tip-Top  House,  whose  walls,  per- 
haps, never  echoed  to  a  jollier  crowd  of  revellers 
than  those  who  now  broke  a  five  hours'  fast. 

A  glorious  sunset,  whose  rosy  light  made  a  gor- 
geous panorama  of  mountain,  vale  and  forest,  was 
witnessed  by  the  party,  and  not  till  the  luminary 


NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT.  II? 

had  entirely  disappeared  from  sight,  and  grotesque 
shadows  were  stealing  abroad,  did  any  one  feel 
inclined  to  go  indoors.  A  roaring  wood  fire  lit  up 
the  grim  old  room,  where  sets  were  soon  formed 
for  dancing,  and  presently  the  whole  company, 
with  one  or  two  exceptions,  entered  heartily  into 
this  amusement. 

The  altitude  of  their  surroundings  seemed  to 
have  an  exhilarating  effect  upon  the  party,  for 
spirits,  which  two  hours  before  had  flagged  from 
bodily  weariness,  now  apparently  rose  superior  to 
the  law  of  physics. 

A  little  after  midnight,  Mr.  Carrol  proposed  to 
Jessie  that  they  go  out  and  take  a  peep  at  Nature, 
in  the  weird  solitude  of  the  hour  and  place,  and 
she  having  wearied  of  dancing,  welcomed  the 
change  at  once.  A  moment  later  they  quitted  the 
house  with  a  few  friends  whom  they  had  asked  to 
join  them,  —  Henry  Germaine,  and  his  sister  and 
betrothed. 

"  I  think  the  world  must  have  looked  like  this 
to  Noah  when  he  left  the  ark,"  said  Jessie,  as  she 
stepped  out  into  the  night.  "  This  might  be 
Mount  Ararat,  and  here,  I  am  sure,  are  the  waters, 
while  we  are  the  only  remnant  of  our  kind." 


Il8  NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT. 

The  girl's  vivid  imagination  had  instantly  evoked 
this  picture,  which  was  indeed  borne  out  by  the 
surroundings,  presenting  as  they  did  a  fair  repre- 
sentation of  that  scene  of  chaos  ;  for  though  the 
atmosphere  was  clear  on  the  summit,  clouds  lay 
all  below  it,  and  these  billowy-looking  masses  of 
vapor  could  be  compared  to  nothing  but  the  waves 
of  the  sea.  In  fact,  a  boundless  ocean  seemed  to 
lie  all  about  them,  while  a  crescent  moon  lit  up 
the  scene,  throwing  into  strong  relief  the  little 
group,  and  the  old  ark  of  shelter  they  had  just 
quitted. 

The  feeling  of  isolation  from  the  rest  of  the 
world  was  for  a  moment  terribly  real  to  the  whole 
party,  impressed  as  they  were  by  the  solitude  and 
strangeness  of  the  scene. 

"  I  must  have  aunty  come  out  a  moment ;  she 
should  not  lose  this,"  Jessie  said,  stepping  back 
into  the  house  a  moment  after  leaving  it. 

Mrs.  Wilson  somewhat  reluctantly  yielded  to 
her  niece's  entreaties  to  put  a  shawl  about  her  and 
come  out ;  but  when  she  had  done  so  she  seemed 
more  impressed  by  the  coldness  of  the  atmosphere 
than  the  strange  phenomena  Nature  presented, 
and  presently,  making  the  plea  that  she  would 


NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT.  IIQ 

certainly  have  an  attack  of  neuralgia  if  she  stayed 
a  moment  longer,  returned  to  the  house  again. 

"  How  awfully  grand  it  is,"  was  Jessie's  ejacula- 
tion, after  standing  a  moment  wrapped  in  contem- 
plation. 

"  Yes,  grand  almost  to  fearfulness,"  returned 
her  companion  ;  and  added,  "  some  people  would 
tell  us  we  were  tempting  Fate  to  stand  here ;  that 
it  is  uncanny  to  seek  to  gaze  upon  Nature  in  her 
primeval  retreat." 

"  Her  loving  children  have  certainly  nothing  to 
fear  from  her,  and  it  is  only  to  them  that  she  re- 
veals herself,"  was  Jessie's  rejoinder. 

The  rest  of  the  party  had  strolled  on,  but  their 
voices  could  plainly  be  heard  by  the  two  who  had 
stood  for  a  moment  lost  in  the  grandeur  of  the 
scene : 

"  How  the  particles  of  mica  glisten  in  the  moon- 
light. Our  mother  earth  has  adorned  herself  with 
all  her  gems  to-night."  A  moment  later  Jessie 
stooped  to  gather  a  cluster  of  mountain  daisies 
which  had  caught  her  eye,  and  which  she  gayly 
affirmed  she  would  keep  as  a  memento  of  this 
night.  Seeing  more  of  these  delicate  white  blos- 
soms just  beyond,  and  thinking  to  complete  her 


I2O  NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT. 

bouquet  with  them,  she  sprang  toward  the  spot, 
and  the  next  instant,  with  a  stifled  scream,  she  had 
disappeared  as  completely  as  if  the  mountain  had 
opened  and  swallowed  her  up. 

The  ground  had  seemed  to  give  way  beneath 
her  feet,  and  she  found  herself  sliding  down,  down, 
without  the  power  to  stop  or  even  cry  out.  In 
another  moment  she  would  probably  have  lost  all 
consciousness  from  fright,  but  her  course  was  sud- 
denly checked.  A  clump  of  bushes  had  stayed 
her  feet.  Then  she  heard,  as  if  far  away,  a  cheer- 
ing voice  bidding  her  not  to  be  frightened,  and 
the  assurance  that  she  was  safe.  Then  a  pair  of 
strong  arms  were  about  her,  and  she  was  lifted 
from  the  perilous  spot,  and  carried,  she  could  never 
afterward  tell  how,  to  a  place  of  safety. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  can  stand  ?  I  think  you  had 
better  not  try,"  said  the  same  kindly  voice,  and 
presently  she  found  herself  sitting  on  the  firm 
earth,  where  her  preserver  had  placed  her. 

Milton  Carrol  had  never  won  a  greater  victory 
over  himself  than  when  he  conquered  the  desire 
to  fold  this  girl  to  his  heart  with  the  uttered  en- 
dearment which  sprang  to  his  lips. 

"Now  you  can  take  breath.     Thank  God,  it  is 


NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT.  121 

still  left  to  you,"  he  said  fervently,  as  he  put  her 
out  of  his  arms. 

"  I  think  I  was  faint  for  a  moment,  but  I  am  all 
right  now,"  were  Jessie's  first  words  when  speech 
and  volition  returned  to  her,  and  then,  noting  her 
companion's  solicitude,  she  made  a  brave  effort  to 
command  her  still  quivering  nerves,  and  recovered 
herself  sufficiently  to  speak  calmly  of  her  late  peril, 
and  his  quick  and  valorous  rescue  of  her. 

Milton  Carrol  could  only  feel  thankful  that  he 
had  resisted  the  weakness  which  would  have  be- 
trayed his  heart,  since  he  felt  sure  it  would  have 
distressed  and  pained  her ;  for,  in  the  sweet  face 
raised  to  his  own,  was  only  to  be  read  gratitude 
for  his  kindness.  The  fact  that  for  a  moment  her 
head  had  lain  upon  his  shoulder,  and  her  heat  beat 
near  his  own,  did  not  make  her  now  shrink  from 
his  glance. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  so  frightened  you.  But 
really  I  am  not  hurt.  Do  not  feel  in  the  least 
anxious  about  me." 

As  she  spoke,  Jessie  was  wiping  from  her  hands 
the  loose  earth  that  still  clung  to  them. 

"  If  you  had  been  hurt  I  should  never  have  for- 
given myself.  I  cannot  think  of  your  escape  with- 


122  NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT. 

out  a  shudder,  and  I  shall  always  blame  myself 
that  I  did  not  take  better  care  of  you." 

"  Oh  !  please  do  not  look  at  it  that  way.  You 
make  me  ashamed  of  my  carelessness  ;  and  pray  do 
not  tell  aunty,  for  it  would  be  sure  to  give  her  a 
shock.  There  she  is  now,  looking  for  us." 

As  Jessie  spoke  Mr.  Carrol  turned  and  saw  Mrs. 
Wilson's  face  pressed  against  the  window  pane. 

"  I  will  go  and  speak  to  her  ;  evidently  she  is 
anxious  about  me,"  Jessie  said,  rising  ;  but  though 
she  had  thought  herself  sufficiently  recovered  to 
carry  out  this  purpose,  she  was  glad  of  the  friendly 
arm  offered,  for  without  its  support  her  limbs 
would  hardly  have  obeyed  the  bidding  of  her  will. 

"  We  are  coming  in  presently,  Aunty,"  she  called 
out  as  they  came  near  the  house ;  for  Mrs.  Wilson 
had  raised  the  window  on  seeing  them. 

"  Why,  where  have  you  been  ? "  she  exclaimed,  on 
their  coming  into  view,  calling  Jessie's  attention 
to  her  wrap,  which  was  covered  with  yellow  mould. 

"  This  is  only  the  natural  result  of  an  intimate 
acquaintance  with  mother  earth,"  was  Mr.  Car- 
rol's response.  "  Miss  Jessie  has  been  sitting  in 
the  maternal  lap,  and  has  brought  away  evidence 
of  our  good  mother's  embrace." 


NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT.  12$ 

A  grateful  glance  from  his  companion  amply  re- 
warded him  for  the  effort  he  had  made  to  divert 
her  aunt's  attention,  and  which  seemed  to  have 
the  desired  effect,  as  Mrs.  Wilson  said  no  more 
about  the  matter,  but  suggested  that  they  should 
come  in  at  once. 

This  Jessie  would  have  done,  but  Mr.  Carrol 
urged  waiting  for  their  friends ;  for  he  saw  that 
her  nervous  agitation  would  be  likely  to  betray 
just  what  he  knew  she  wished  to  conceal,  namely, 
that  something  had  happened  to  disturb  her 
greatly. 

"  Our  friends  must  return  presently,  and  then 
we  will  all  go  in  together,"  he  said,  hoping  that 
thus  any  unusual  nervousness  on  Jessie's  part 
might  escape  notice. 

But  he  at  once  made  an  effort  to  brush  the 
fresh  mould  from  her  wrap,  that  it  might  not  fur- 
ther betray  her,  and  ere  this  was  accomplished  the 
voices  of  their  late  companions  met  their  ears. 

"Why  !  Where  have  you  been  all  this  time  ?  " 
Henry  Germaine  called  out  as  he  caught  sight  of 
Mr.  Carrol  and  Jessie. 

"  Where  have  we  been  ?  You  had  better  an- 
swer that  question  for  yourselves,"  was  Mr.  Car- 


124  NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT. 

rol's  response.  "  Miss  Jessie  and  I  have  just  come 
from  the  house"  (so  they  had  from  that  direction). 
"  It  did  not  take  us  many  moments  to  become  dis- 
gusted with  a  midnight  ramble  up  here  in  the 
clouds.  We  were  looking  for  you  now,  and  had 
about  come  to  the  conclusion  that  you  had  gone 
back  to  the  Glen." 

Henry  Germaine  laughed.  "We  just  walked 
down  the  road  a  short  distance.  It  was  too  cold 
to  stand  still,  and  we  thought  you  would  follow. 
When  you  did  not,  I  thought  something  had  hap- 
pened." 

"  You  did  not  think  we  had  fallen  into  one  of 
these  gorges  without  making  any  outcry  to  alarm 
our  friends,  did  you  ?  We  are  heroic  and  self- 
sacrificing  to  the  last  degree,  but  we  should  hardly 
do  that." 

This  banter  seemed  to  have  the  desired  effect 
of  dissipating  from  his  friend's  mind  any  suspicion 
of  their  having  been  detained  by  a  mishap,  and 
satisfied  himself  that  Jessie's  cry  had  not  been 
heard. 

Now  that  her  secret  would  be  safe,  he  was  ready 
to  go  in,  and  a  moment  later  was  leading  the  way 
to  the  house. 


NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT.  125 

To  Germaine's  jest  that  he  expected  mountain- 
dew  would  be  at  a  premium  on  the  morrow,  Jessie 
laughingly  replied,  that  she  had  not  thought  of 
making  a  corner  in  the  same,  or  she  would  not  so 
carelessly  have  lost  the  blossoms  she  had  gathered. 

On  her  way  to  the  house  she  found  an  oppor- 
tunity to  thank  Mr.  Carrol  for  so  thoughtfully 
screening  her  mishap  from  their  companions  ;  for 
to  have  been  the  object  of  their  commiseration 
would  have  been  the  keenest  torture  to  her  sen- 
sitive nature. 

"You  owe  me  no  thanks,  Miss  Jessie ;  you  long 
ago  cancelled  any  favor  I  might  do  you,  by  your 
kindness  to  my  father ;  and  besides,  this  accident 
would  not  have  come  about  had  I  been  equal  to 
my  trust,"  was  the  gallant  response. 

Before  the  days  of  steam  on  Mt.  Washington, 
persons  spending  the  night  on  the  summit,  made 
little  account  of  sleeping  away  any  of  its  hours. 
The  present  company  at  least  had  no  thought  of  do- 
ing so,  and  when  interest  in  dancing  had  died  out, 
blind-man's-buff,  forfeits,  and  other  games  followed, 
till  the  night  was  past,  and  sunrise  heralded. 

Warm  wraps  were  then  in  demand,  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  company  went  out-of-doors  to 


126  NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT. 

witness  the  ascent  of  old  Sol  into  the  heavens, 
from  the  low-lying  fog  and  vapor,  which  gave  him 
the  appearance  of  rising  out  of  the  sea.  Not  a 
cold,  dark  expanse  of  water,  but  a  gold  and  amber 
sea  through  which  the  form  of  the  great  luminary 
could  be  faintly  descried  before  its  rim  shot  into 
sight.  For  the  little  party  on  the  summit  had  wit- 
nessed the  miracle  of  a  second  sunrise,  when  the 
great  orb  of  day  appeared  above  the  sea  of  mist 
and  vapor  which  bounded  their  horizon. 

It  was  now  bitterly  cold,  the  temperature  having 
fallen  several  degrees  since  daylight ;  so  after  hav- 
ing seen  the  sun  fairly  started  on  his  day's  jour- 
ney through  the  heavens,  the  party  were  glad  to 
get  indoors  again,  to  the  hot  coffee  and  breakfast, 
which  now  awaited  them. 

Jessie  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  her  aunt 
moving  actively  about,  assisting  in  the  prepara- 
tions. Evidently  she  was  feeling  none  the  worse 
for  her  night's  dissipation  ;  the  novel  experience 
of  being  without  her  maid  (for  she  had  left  Martha 
at  the  hotel)  seemed  to  make  her  forget  the  con- 
ventionalities to  which  she  had  been  so  long  tied, 
for  she  was  entering  heartily  into  the  spirit  of  mer- 
riment that  presided  over  this  impromptu  meal. 


NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT.  I2/ 

Before  leaving  the  summit  for  their  descent, 
Jessie  visited  the  scene  of  her  accident,  and  on  see- 
ing the  spot  by  daylight  was  surprised  that  the  dis- 
tance of  her  fall  was  so  much  less  than  she  had  sup- 
posed. 

It  proved  to  be  a  growth  of  scrubby  bushes  which 
had  intercepted  it,  but  these  were  the  only  vege- 
tation about.  Had  they  not  been  strong  enough 
to  have  held  her  she  would,  perhaps,  have  gone  on 
the  jagged  rocks  below. 

"  Why,  it  seemed  such  a  long  way  that  I  went 
down!  I  felt  I  would  never  stop,"  she  said,  turn- 
ing with  a  nervous  shiver  from  the  spot  which  had 
been  so  full  of  peril  to  her.  "  I  don't  see  how  you 
came  to  me  so  quickly,  and  much  less  how  you  got 
me  up  again." 

"  I  think  you  were  hardly  conscious  when  I 
reached  you,  for  you  did  not  speak  till  I  had  you 
half-way  up,  then  you  said  something  about  put- 
ting me  to  trouble.  It  was  such  a  relief  to  hear 
your  voice  that  I  think  at  that  moment  I  could 
have  climbed  the  Himalayas  with  you." 

"  I  am  glad  you  were  not  put  to  the  test,"  re- 
turned Jessie,  smiling. 

He  did  not  tell  her  that  he  bad  only  that  morn- 


128  NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT. 

ing  repeated  what  she  seemed  to  think  a  great 
climbing  feat,  for  a  cluster  of  wilted  daisies,  from 
which  he  had  tenderly  brushed  the  mould,  and 
which  for  many  a  day  he  would  keep  as  a  precious 
memento  of  herself. 

Soon  after  starting  on  their  descent,  Mr.  Carrol 
found  that  one  of  the  fore  shoes  of  his  horse  was 
loose.  He  tightened  it  as  well  as  he  could,  and 
for  the  first  mile  went  along  very  well ;  then  his 
horse  began  slipping.  He  was  thinking  seriously 
of  removing  the  shoe  altogether,  when  the  animal 
stumbled  and  came  down  upon  his  knees,  at  the 
same  time  bringing  his  rider's  shoulder  in  violent 
contact  with  one  of  the  immense  rocks  which  here 
overhung  the  narrow  path.  The  next  moment  he 
was  lying  senseless  in  the  road,  where  he  had 
fallen. 

As  it  happened,  Mr.  Germaine  was  the  only  per- 
son who  witnessed  this  accident,  he  being  directly 
behind  his  friend,  while  the  rest  of  the  party  were 
ahead.  Jumping  from  his  horse,  he  tenderly  raised 
the  head  of  the  prostrate  man,  fearing  that  the 
blow  had  killed  him.  On  being  moved,  Mr.  Carrol 
opened  his  eyes,  and  seemed  at  once  to  compre- 
hend what  had  happened. 


NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT. 


"I  am  all  right,"  he  said,  attempting  to  rise,  but 
the  next  moment,  with  a  stifled  groan,  he  had 
fallen  back  in  a  faint. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  arm  is  broken." 

Dismay  was  pictured  on  Germaine's  face  as  he 
examined  the  member  which  had  fallen  limp  at 
the  unconscious  man's  side. 

To  have  help  was  the  first  thing  necessary,  and 
Germaine  shouted  to  those  ahead  to  stop. 

Before  any  one  could  reach  them,  Mr.  Carrol 
again  revived,  and  declared  his  injury  confined  to 
his  right  arm  ;  but  that  was  indeed  broken,  as  his 
friend  had  feared. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  Help  could  not  be  ren- 
dered here.  Evidently  there  could  be  no  relief 
for  the  sufferer  till  he  was  got  home,  which  must 
be  clone  as  quickly  as  possible.  The  injured  mem- 
ber was,  after  some  delay,  confined  in  a  sling, 
and  then  various  methods  were  suggested  for  his 
transit. 

Meanwhile  his  horse  was  pawing  the  ground 
with  his  loosened  shoe,  and  whinnying  as  if  trying 
to  explain  why  he  had  thrown  his  master,  by  draw- 
ing attention  to  his  own  disability. 

"  I  know  it,  poor  fellow,  you  were  not  to  blame," 


I3O  NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT. 

said  the  injured  man,  who  called  the  beast  to  him, 
and  with  a  few  kindly  strokes  of  the  shapely  head, 
seemed  to  reassure  him  that  it  was  all  right. 

Of  course  the  animal  could  not  be  mounted 
again  by  his  master,  whose  avoirdupois  greatly 
added  to  the  exigencies  of  the  case.  After  several 
attempts,  however,  his  friends  succeeded  in  getting 
him  upon  Germaine's  horse,  and  that  gentleman 
insisted  upon  leading  the  animal,  whose  every  mo- 
tion was  evidently  a  torture  to  the  sufferer. 

Mr.  Carrol's  horse,  whose  shoe  had  been  re- 
moved, was  also  led  by  one  of  the  party,  and  in 
this  way  they  proceeded  down  the  mountain. 

Though  no  groan  escaped  the  injured  man,  his 
friends  who  kept  a  constant  watch  upon  him,  and 
noted  the  occasionally  sudden  paling  of  his  cheek, 
and  the  lines  about  his  mouth  growing  hard  and 
tense,  felt  they  would  be  only  too  thankful  when 
the  descent  should  be  accomplished. 

A  level  road  would  have  tested  his  powers  of 
endurance  in  no  small  degree ;  but  the  ruts  and 
jutting  bowlders  of  the  old  bridle  path  made  eques- 
trianism trying  in  the  best  estate. 

"  Don't  faint,  old  boy,  and  land  in  one  of  these 
gulches  ;  for  we  might  not  be  able  to-  fish  you  out 


NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT.  13! 

again,"  Germaine  said  with  ill-assumed  noncha- 
lance when  they  started ;  but  he  soon  saw  that  his 
friend's  powerful  will  and  iron  nerve  would  carry 
him  through. 

And  so  it  proved,  for  when  they  reached  the 
hotel,  Milton  Carrol  even  found  strength  to  walk 
to  his  mother's  room,  lest  she  should  be  alarmed 
by  hearing  of  his  accident  from  others. 

"  I  suppose  I  have  brought  you  home  a  broken 
arm,  mother,  as  a  souvenir  of  Mt.  Washington  ; 
and  it  had  best  be  attended  to  before  my  father 
knows  anything  about  it.  Dr.  Ellis  will  be  in 
presently.  I  have  sent  for  him,"  he  said,  as  if 
announcing  the  most  indifferent  fact. 

The  delay  in  setting  the  broken  bone  had  con- 
siderably aggravated  the  case,  and  it  was  some 
days  before  Mr.  Carrol  was  able  to  leave  his  room  ; 
but  he  finally  exchanged  this  seclusion  for  his 
mother's  private  parlor,  where  he  received  the 
visits  of  sympathizing  friends. 

"  Oh  !  I  shall  be  about  again  in  a  few  days,"  he 
said  to  those  who  were  disposed  to  condole  with 
him  on  his  disability ;  but  the  few  days  passed, 
and  still  he  did  not  quit  his  retirement,  though  the 
broken  arm  was  doing  well. 


132  NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT. 

A  term  of  unpropitious  weather  about  this  time 
kept  every  one  in-doors,  and  Jessie  spent  most  of 
her  time  in  Mrs.  Carrol's  room.  Perhaps  the  se- 
cret of  the  invalid's  being  in  no  haste  to  get  about 
again  lay  in  the  above  fact.  Very  certain  it  is 
that  if  for  any  reason  she  was  later  than  usual  in 
her  daily  visit,  or  happened  to  be  called  away,  as 
was  not  infrequently  the  case,  he  grew  restless 
and  moody  at  once,  a  condition  which  disappeared 
immediately  when  Jessie  entered. 

They  were  reading  together  some  of  the  old 
English  and  French  authors,  and  more  than  one 
lively  discussion  arose  between  them  over  these 
works.  Jessie  was  keenly  alive  intellectually,  and 
though  religious  in  her  nature,  her  mind  was  dis- 
posed to  speculation  ;  and  her  spiritual  intuition 
and  acumen  often  surprised  her  companion,  giving 
him  a  glimpse  of  a  nature  rarely  pure  and  gifted. 

But  while  finding  that  she  grew  daily  dearer  to 
him,  as  he  learned  better  to  appreciate  her  char- 
acter, he  was  more  and  more  convinced  that  her 
pleasure  in  his  society  was  a  purely  intellectual 
one  ;  that  in  their  delightful  chats  her  mind  simply 
found  the  stimulus  of  friction,  and  in  this  fact  lay 
his  chief  and  only  attraction  for  her. 


NEARLY    A    DENOUEMENT.  133 

He  often  found  himself  envying  the  man  to 
whom  he  believed  she  had  given  her  heart.  But 
the  better  he  became  acquainted  with  Jessie  the 
more  puzzled  was  he  that  a  girl  of  her  gay,  ex- 
uberant spirit  should  fancy  a  person  like  Doctor 
Forney  ;  a  brilliant  icicle,  as  he  mentally  termed 
his  supposed  rival. 

It  must  be  that  she  had  been  captivated  by  the 
doctor's  acquirements  and  position,  as  a  man  of 
learning  and  letters.  These  would  naturally  have 
a  great  attraction  for  one  who  valued  intellectual 
gifts  as  she  did  ;  but  would  these  things  satisfy 
her  heart  ? 

Would  this  girl  who  was  all  feeling,  who  would 
live  in  her  affections,  be  happy  with  one  so  entirely 
her  opposite  ?  Milton  Carrol  thought  he  knew 
her  better  than  she  knew  herself ;  and  his  heart 
cried  out  at  the  sacrifice.  The  temptation  to  try 
and  save  her  from  such  a  mistake,  even  though 
her  salvation  should  work  him  no  weal,  was  often 
strong  upon  him. 


CHAPTER   X. 

A    NEW    LEAF    TURNED. 

THE  last  of  October  found  Mrs.  Wilson  and 
her  niece  back  in  Boston,  where,  after 
their  late  residence  with  Nature,  the  city  seemed 
cramped  and  close,  and  to  shut  them  in  like  a  wall. 

"  I  will  go  to  Newbury  next  week.  Perhaps 
they  are  only  waiting  for  me  to  signify  a  desire  to 
come  home,  since  I  am  no  longer  a  child  to  be 
sent  back  and  forth  at  another's  will.  They  have 
been  leaving  me  the  choice,  and  I  have  been  blind 
not  to  see  it  in  that  light,"  was  Jessie's  thought, 
when  the  question  as  to  what  she  was  to  do  with 
herself  presented  itself. 

When  she  made  known  this  decision  to  her 
Aunt  Wilson,  that  lady  begged  she  would  not  go 
at  once  ;  and  she  seemed  so  troubled  at  the  thought 
of  losing  her,  that  Jessie  felt  constrained  to  yield 
to  her  wishes,  though  she  at  once  wrote  her  aunt 
Kitty  that  she  might  look  for  her  early  in  Novem- 
ber. 


A    NEW    LEAF    TURNED.  135 

Mrs.  Wilson  had  ere  this  realized  that  Jessie's 
indisposition  of  the  spring  and  early  summer,  had 
been  occasioned  by  the  narrow,  restricted  life  she 
had  led,  and  that  she  would  never  endure  another 
such  season.  If  she  were  to  succeed  in  keeping 
Jessie  with  her,  it  was  evident  she  must  bring 
some  life  into  her  house ;  accordingly,  before  they 
had  been  two  weeks  at  home,  Mrs.  Wilson  wrote 
Carrie  Winter,  inviting  her  to  come  and  spend  the 
next  few  months  with  them.  She  knew  her  niece's 
friend  was  desirous  of  taking  music  lessons  of  a 
certain  artist  in  the  profession,  and  as  this  would 
give  her  the  opportunity,  she  did  not  doubt  the 
girl  would  gladly  avail  herself  of  it. 

And  so  it  proved  :  but  that  young  lady  was 
scarcely  a  fortnight  in  the  city  when  Mrs.  Wilson's 
house  was  turned  completely  upside  down ;  for 
that  lady  had  given  her  niece  carte  blanche,  and 
Jessie's  first  use  of  her  power  was  to  refurnish 
some  of  the  grim  old  rooms,  which  soon  presented 
so  cheerful  and  bright  an  appearance  that  its  mis- 
tress hardly  felt  at  home  in  them. 

Its  mistress,  we  said,  but  Mrs.  Wilson  was  no 
longer  the  ordering  spirit  of  her  home  ;  for  she 
had  given  the  menage  also  entirely  into  the  hands 


136  A    NEW    LEAF    TURNED. 

of  her  two  young  visitors,  who  were  playing  at 
housekeeping  in  a  high-handed  original  way  that 
nearly  sent  the  servants  distracted.  Meals  were 
ordered  at  unprecedented  hours,  while  the  house 
overflowed  with  bright  young  company. 

"  Jessie,  you  remember  Mr.  Carrol  is  to  be  in 
town  this  week,  and  I  invited  him  here  to  dine 
Thursday,  though  I  believe  I  did  not  mention  it  to 
you.  What  do  you  think  of  asking  Doctor  Forney 
and  his  sister  to  meet  him  ?  "  Mrs.  Wilson  asked, 
looking  closely  at  her  niece  as  she  put  this  ques- 
tion. 

"  Was  it  this  week  he  was  to  be  in  town  ?  I  had 
forgotten.  Yes  ;  if  you  have  invited  him  it  would 
be  well  to  ask  some  one  else,  and  I  believe  Doc- 
tor Carrol  and  Doctor  Forney's  father  were  old 
friends." 

Jessie  spoke,  as  her  aunt  thought,  quite  indif- 
ferently. Was  it  possible  she  had  forgotten  Mr. 
Carrol  was  to  be  in  the  city  that  week? 

Mrs.  Wilson  had  often  of  late  questioned  in  her 
mind  whether  there  had  really  been  anything,  after 
all,  between  her  niece  and  the  doctor's  son,  as  she 
had  supposed.  Jessie  had  parted  from  Mr.  Carrol 
as  she  had  from  other  pleasant  summer  friends,  and 


A    NEW    LEAF    TURNED.  137 

her  aunt  was  confident  there  had  been  no  communi- 
cation between  them  since. 

This  morning  she  decided  that  she  must  have 
been  mistaken  in  supposing  that  there  had  been, 
and  dismissed  the  matter  with  a  sense  of  relief. 
Jessie  could  do  better  than  to  marry  the  doctor's 
son.  She  was  born  to  grace  a  different  position 
from  what  a  plain  farmer  could  give  her,  even 
though  that  farmer  were  Milton  Carrol. 

That  same  afternoon  Jessie  and  her  friend  were 
on  their  way  to  Professor  Roselle's,  for  their  music 
lesson,  when  they  met  Doctor  Forney. 

"  Miss  Jessie,  I  was  just  wishing  I  could  see 
you,"  the  doctor  said,  after  a  cordial  greeting  to 
her  and  her  friend,  whom  he  had  several  times 
met.  "  I  was  even  contemplating,  this  very  mo- 
ment, how  I  could  find  time  to  call  on  you  before 
to-morrow  evening  ;  for  I  have  tickets  for  Madame 
Parodi's  concert,  which  I  want  you  and  Miss  Win- 
ter should  use." 

It  seemed  the  doctor  had  secured  tickets  to  this 
concert  some  time  in  advance,  and  now  his  sister, 
and  the  friend  who  had  expected  to  accompany 
her,  would  not  be  able  to  go. 

If  Jessie  and  her  friend  Carrie  would  allow  him 


138  A    NEW    LEAF    TURNED. 

to  call  for  them  on  the  evening  in  question,  it 
would  give  him  great  pleasure  to  do  so. 

The  doctor's  very  cordial  invitation  they  could 
not  decline,  though  it  would  have  pleased  Jessie 
better  had  he  not  offered  himself  as  their  escort. 

"  If  he  would  have  allowed  us  to  come  down  in 
the  carriage,  and  then  met  us  at  the  hall,  it  would 
have  been  just  as  well ;  and  would  have  saved  him- 
self a  good  deal  of  trouble.  Waiting  upon  young 
ladies,  I  fancy,  is  hardly  in  the  doctor's  way,  and 
I  don't  believe  but  that  it  is  a  bother  to  him,"  she 
said,  with  a  slight  tone  of  annoyance,  when  he 
had  left  them. 

"  Well,  if  it  isn't  in  his  way,  it  ought  to  be ;  he 
should  be  waiting  upon  his  daughters  by  this  time. 
But  since  he  has  none  of  his  own,  the  least  he  can 
do  is  to  wait  upon  other  men's  daughters,"  was 
Carrie  Winter's  merry  rejoinder.  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve it  is  a  very  great  trial  to  1  -'m,  either  ;  but  I 
think  it  was  ever  so  nice  of  him  to  ask  us.  I 
wanted  to  go  to  that  concert  so  much,  but  did  not 
expect  an  escort  would  be  forthcoming,"  she  added, 
with  native  frankness. 

"A  gentleman  to  see  you,  Miss."  Jessie  was 
just  rising  from  their  late  dinner,  the  following 


A    NEW    LEAF    TURNED.  139 

day,  when  this  message  was  brought  her.  Going 
to  the  parlor,  she  found  Mr.  Carrol  standing  before 
one  of  Corot's  loveliest  twilights,  so  lost  in  con- 
templation of  the  picture,  that  he  did  not  hear  her 
till  she  spoke. 

"Why,  good  afternoon,  Mr.  Carrol,"  she  said, 
with  evident  pleasure  ;  and  then,  "  I  see  you  were 
admiring  one  of  my  favorites. 

"  Yes,"  he  returned,  releasing  the  hand  she  had 
given  him.  "  Corot's  handling  of  such  scenes  is 
wonderful.  This  is  silver-toned  almost  to  weird- 
ness,  suggesting  something  of  the  supernatural." 
Then,  turning  from  the  picture,  he  inquired  how 
Jessie's  health  had  been  since  her  return  from  the 
mountains.  "  But  I  need  not  ask,"  he  added, 
drawing  his  chair  nearer  to  her.  "  You  evidently 
have  not  been  pining  in  your  exile,"  quoting  one 
of  her  own  pleasantries  in  which  he  had  heard  her 
refer  to  her  indisposition  of  the  previous  spring. 

"  No  ;  I  have  been  well.  The  exile  has  become 
reconciled  to  her  banishment,"  she  returned,  with 
one  of  the  rare  bright  glances  he  remembered  so 
well.  "  But  how  is  everybody  at  home  ?  I  did  not 
think  when  I  left  the  mountains  to  stay  away  from 
Newbury  so  long." 


I4O  A    NEW    LEAF    TURNED. 

"  But  pleasure  has  held  you  captive  in  her  chains," 
Mr.  Carrol  interposed,  with  a  smile  which  was  per- 
haps the  least  bit  cynical. 

"  Yes ;  one  thing  after  another  has  seemed  to 
prevent  my  going  to  Newbury,  and  now  my  friend 
Carrie  Winter  is  here.  But  tell  me  everything 
that  has  happened.  Have  you  seen  the  boys 
lately  ?  and  how  are  your  father  and  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  saw  your  cousins  only  yesterday,  and 
they  sent  a  great  deal  of  love  to  you,  with  the  in- 
junction that  you  were  to  come  home  directly  or 
they  would  come  and  bring  you.  My  mother  is 
very  well,  and  sent  kind  remembrances  ;  but  I  am 
sorry  to  say  my  father  has  not  justified  our  hopes 
for  him.  He  does  not  go  out  now,  and  is  appar- 
ently losing  strength."  An  anxious,  careworn  ex- 
pression crossed  Mr.  Carrol's  face  while  speaking 
of  his  father. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that.  He  seemed  so  well 
during  the  summer."  Jessie  spoke  absently,  and 
Mr.  Carrol  at  once  changed  the  subject,  but  he 
was  recalled  to  it  a  moment  later  by  her  asking  if 
there  had  been  any  return  of  his  father's  mental 
malady. 

Jessie  had  hesitated  before  asking  this  question  ; 


A    NEW    LEAF    TURNED.  14! 

but  she  wished  very  much  to  satisfy  her  mind  on 
this  matter. 

"  No,  he  has  not  had  any  return  of  that  trouble ; 
his  mind  seems  clear.  He  has  apparently  forgot- 
ten his  old  hallucination,  for  it  is  months  now 
since  he  has  spoken  of  it." 

For  a  few  moments  after  this  Jessie  was 
strangely  abstracted  ;  then  she  seemed  to  rally  her 
wandering  thoughts,  and  was  again  her  old  viva- 
cious self. 

When  Mr.  Carrol  finally  accused  her  of  having 
deserted  old  friends  for  new,  she  laughingly  re- 
plied that  she  was  only  testing  them,  as  she  wished 
to  prove  if  they  would  be  really  glad  to  have  her 
back  again. 

"  But  it  is  too  bad  to  punish  Allan  and  Roger," 
she  added  ;  "  I  know  they  really  miss  me,  and  since 
I  cannot  go  home  at  present,  I  must  have  them 
here  for  a  visit.  I  wonder  I  had  not  thought  of 
it  before.  I  know  aunty  will  try  and  endure  their 
invasion  for  a  week." 

This  reminded  Mr.  Carrol  to  inquire  for  Mrs. 
Wilson's  health. 

"  Aunty  has  been  quite  a  marvel  to  me  since 
she  came  home.  You  would  hardly  believe  what 


142  A    NEW    LEAF    TURNED. 

a  difference  the  summer  has  made  in  her  health 
and  habits.  Why,  she  goes  about  quite  like  other 
people  now.  I  will  speak  to  her,  for  she  would  be 
disappointed  not  to  see  you.  I  believe  she  is 
counting  upon  a  visit  from  you  while  here." 

Ringing  the  bell  for  a  servant,  Jessie  added,  "  I 
shall  have  to  beg  you  to  excuse  me,  Mr.  Carrol, 
for  I  have  an  engagement  this  evening.  Carrie 
and  myself  are  going  to  hear  Madame  Parodi. 
Perhaps  you  were  intending  to  go  to  the  concert  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  was  not  fortunate  enough  to  get  a  ticket ; 
they  have  all  been  sold  for  several  days,"  Mr. 
Carrol  returned  ;  "  but  I  am  glad  you  are  to  have 
such  a  treat.  I  heard  Parodi  when  she  was  here 
before,  and  then  her  voice  was  exquisite.  But  do 
not  let  me  detain  you.  I  will  stay  a  moment  and 
see  Mrs.  Wilson,  and  then  I  will  go  back  to  the 
hotel,  as  I  expect  a  friend  to  call  upon  me  this 
evening." 

Jessie  quitted  the  room  a  few  moments  after  her 
aunt  entered,  for  she  found  on  consulting  her  watch 
that  she  had  no  time  to  spare  if  she  would  not 
keep  the  doctor  waiting.  So  quickly  exchanging 
her  dinner  dress  for  a  black  silk,  she  donned  her 
street  garments,  and  as  she  entered  one  door  of 


A    NEW    LEAF    TURNED.  143 

the  parlor  to  take  leave  of  Mr.  Carrol,  Doctor  For- 
ney was  shown  in  by  another. 

Introductions  followed,  and  the  doctor  expressed 
himself  pleased  to  meet  the  son  of  his  father's  old 
friend.  If  Mr.  Carrol  found  less  pleasure  in  this 
encounter,  he  was  at  least  his  own  courteous  self. 

Some  fifteen  minutes  later  when  he  left  Mrs. 
Wilson's  house,  he  had  promised  to  dine  with  her 
the  following  day. 

He  would  now  have  the  opportunity  he  had  de- 
sired of  seeing  Jessie  and  the  doctor  together, 
when  he  was  sure  he  could  judge  something  of  the 
relation  in  which  they  stood  to  each  other.  If 
she  loved  him,  her  naturally  impulsive  nature  was 
sure  to  betray  it  in  some  way  ;  and  with  this  knowl- 
edge Milton  Carrol  felt  it  would  be  easier  to  sur- 
render all  hope  of  her  himself. 

But  if  on  the  contrary  he  saw  any  reason  to 
think  that  her  heart  was  not  wholly  given  to  this 
man,  he  would  not  leave  the  city  without  declaring 
himself,  and  making  an  effort  to  win  her. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THWARTED    PURPOSES. 

TELEGRAM,  sir ;  came  just  after  you  went 
out,"  was  the  salutation  Mr.  Carrol  met  as 
he  entered  the  Tremont  House,  where  he  always 
stopped  when  in  the  city. 

Hastily  tearing  off  the  envelope,  he  learned  that 
his  father  had  been  suddenly  taken  ill,  and  his 
mother  feared  the  worst,  and  desired  his  imme- 
diate return. 

"  Has  any  one  inquired  for  me  ?  "  he  asked  of 
the  messenger  boy  who  still  lingered. 

"  No,  sir ;  I  have  been  right  here,  and  I  haven't 
seen  any  one." 

One  glance  at  the  office  clock  had  shown  Mr. 
Carrol  that  he  would  not  have  time  to  catch  the 
eight  o'clock  train,  as  it  was  now  nearly  that  time  ; 
he  must  wait  for  the  later  one. 

"Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  sir?"  The  boy 
had  waited  for  his  customary  tip,  and  as  it  was  not 

144 


THWARTED    PURPOSES.  145 

forthcoming,  had  thought  the  gentleman  needed 
reminding. 

"  No  — yes  !  Wait  here.  You  may  carry  a  let- 
ter when  I  have  written  it,"  Mr.  Carrol  said,  turn- 
ing to  the  clerk's  desk. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  send  a  tele- 
gram to  his  mother,  telling  her  that  he  would  come 
on  the  midnight  express.  The  next  to  write  a  note 
to  Mrs.  Wilson,  explaining  his  inability  to  keep 
his  engagement  on  the  morrow. 

After  dispatching  the  messenger  with  this  note 
and  making  his  preparations  to  leave  the  city,  Mr. 
Carrol  found  that  he  still  had  considerable  time 
upon  his  hands,  which  in  his  present  restless  mood 
he  would  gladly  have  annihilated. 

A  few  moments  later  he  was  watching  the  crowd 
as  it  poured  out  of  Music  Hall,  which  had  been 
densely  packed  by  the  admirers  of  the  great  singer. 
If  he  had  come  here  hoping  to  get  another  sight 
of  the  fair  face  which  haunted  all  his  thoughts,  he 
was  rewarded ;  for,  in  crossing  the  sidewalk  to  her 
carriage,  Jessie  passed  so  near  him  that  the  sleeve 
of  her  velvet  cloak  touched  his  arm.  But  she  was 
talking  with  the  doctor  about  the  evening's  enter- 
ment,  and  took  no  cognizance  of  the  dark  earnest 


146  THWARTED    PURPOSES. 

eyes  which  in  that  brief  moment  flashed  in  admira- 
tion upon  her. 

Stopping  long  enough  to  see  the  doctor  take 
leave  of  Jessie  and  her  friend,  after  putting  them 
into  the  carriage,  Milton  Carrol  turned  and  walked 
rapidly  in  the  direction  of  the  station.  But  he 
took  with  him  the  remembrance  of  the  bright,  beau- 
tiful face  whose  dazzling  fairness  had  been  en- 
hanced by  the  sombre  but  elegant  hat  and  cloak 
which  had  been  a  fit  setting  for  it. 

But  he  also  took  with  him  another  remembrance, 
that  of  the  fortune  which  made  this  girl  indepen- 
dent, and  which  now  seemed  to  widen  the  distance 
between  them. 

In  Newbury  Jessie  had  always  dressed  simply ; 
he  had  forgotten  to  associate  with  her  the  bonds 
and  bank  stock  which  had  been  her  inheritance. 

Jessie's  fortune  had  come  to  her  from  her  mother  ; 
for  Allan  Norberry  had  been  too  devoted  to  his 
literary  pursuits  to  amass  money.  His  treasures 
were  purely  mental,  and  these  he  could  not  be- 
queath in  pounds,  shillings  and  pence  to  his  orphan 
child  ;  but,  happily,  her  mother's  fortune  had  pre- 
vented his  daughter  from  being  dependent  upon 
her  relatives. 


THWARTED    PURPOSES.  147 

Milton  Carrol,  we  say,  remembered  this,  and  it 
proved  to  be  the  last  feather  that  turned  the  scale 
against  him. 

He  knew  that  the  Norberrys  were  very  proud  of 
their  old  family  name,  and  that  they  would  look 
high  for  the  daughter  of  its  most  honored  son. 
Doubtless  they  would  favor  a  match  with  Doctor 
Forney,  whose  fortune  was  equal  to  her  own  ;  and 
who  could  give  her  the  social  position  she  was  en- 
titled to  hold.  While,  on  the  other  hand,  what 
had  he  to  offer  her?  Nothing  but  his  love;  not 
even  an  untarnished  name. 

When  Jessie  returned  from  the  concert  she 
found  her  aunt  in  quite  a  dismal  state  of  mind 
over  the  note  she  had  that  evening  received. 

"  It's  too  bad,  Aunty,  but  Mr.  Carrol  will  be 
coming  up  again.  You  will  have  another  oppor- 
tunity to  bring  him  and  the  doctor  together,"  she 
said,  trying  to  console  her  aunt  for  what  was  evi- 
dently quite  a  disappointment. 

"  Yes ;  but  Doctor  Forney  will  come,  of  course, 
and  it  will  be  so  stupid  and  awkward  for  him  to 
find  himself  the  only  gentleman,"  returned  her 
aunt  ruefully. 

"If  he  does,  he  can  easily  make  some  excuse 


148  THWARTED    PURPOSES. 

and  escape.  I  don't  see  that  we  can  help  it  now," 
responded  Jessie,  who  seemingly  did  not  share  her 
aunt's  annoyance. 

"  Who  ever  heard  of  any  man  rinding  a  good 
dinner  stupid.  I  thought  they  were  generally  very 
interesting  occasions  to  them.  Or  is  the  learned 
doctor  in  the  habit  of  feasting  only  on  the  nectar 
of  the  gods,  that  the  food  of  common  mortals  is 
liable  to  disturb  his  digestion  ?  Don't  fear,  Mrs. 
Wilson,"  Carrie  Winter  gayly  added;  "leave  him 
to  me,  and  I  will  see  that  he  does  not  have  a  fit 
of  ennui  over  his  dinner." 

If  the  doctor  were  ever  a  victim  to  this  disorder, 
he  was  certainly  not  afflicted  with  it  on  this  occa- 
sion, for  he  seemed  to  thoroughly  enjoy  this  din- 
ing enfamille  with  his  friends,  though  he  expressed 
regret  that  he  was  not  to  further  his  acquaintance 
with  Mr.  Carrol,  which  would  have  given  him 
pleasure ;  and  showed  not  a  little  solicitude  on 
learning  of  Doctor  Carrol's  sudden  illness. 

While  Jessie  engaged  Miss  Forney  in  conversa- 
tion, her  lively  friend  Carrie  had  taken  the  doctor 
by  storm  with  some  of  her  pet  theories,  and  pres- 
ently was  enlarging  upon  the  abject  state  of  help- 
lessness to  which  woman  had  been  brought  by  her 


THWARTED    PURPOSES.  149 

long  dependence  upon  man.  But  she  expressed 
the  belief  that  the  happy  day  was  not  far  distant 
when  her  weak  and  enfeebled  sex  would  rise  up 
and  throw  off  the  conventional  shackles  which 
had  so  long  bound  them,  and  prove  themselves 
equal  to  standing  alone. 

Jessie  saw  the  gleam  of  mischief  in  her  friend's 
eye,  and  knew  she  had  thrown  this  bomb  for  the 
fun  of  the  explosion,  being  well  aware  of  the  doc- 
tor's decided  conservatism. 

Whether  it  was  that  he  also  understood  this,  or 
that  the  graceful  audacity  of  his  fair  assailant 
amused  and  interested  him,  it  would  be  hard  to 
say ;  he  laughed  heartily,  though  he  did  not  disdain 
to  take  up  the  cudgels  in  defense  of  his  opinions. 

"  Do  you  think  women  will  be  happier  under  the 
new  regime?  or  better  wives  and  mothers?"  he 
asked  with  a  smile. 

"  Yes ;  a  thousand  times  happier  if  they  have 
any  spirit,"  returned  the  girl  quickly.  "As  to 
their  being  better  wives  and  mothers,  a  great  pro- 
portion of  women  never  are  wives  and  mothers, 
but  those  who  are  will  certainly  never  be  the  worse 
for  standing  on  an  equality  of  independence  with 
their  husbands  and  sons." 


I  5O  THWARTED    PURPOSES. 

Carrie  Winter  had  been  careful  to  use  none  of 
the  terms  which  are  obnoxious  from  association, 
and  her  eyes  now  plainly  said,  "  Gainsay  that  if 
you  can." 

Evidently  the  doctor  did  not  care  to  attempt 
this,  but  he  made  answer  : 

"  I  think  some  one  has  said  that  freedom  is  in 
the  air,  and  that  our  women  breathe  in  its  spirit 
with  their  breath.  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  is  so, 
for  here  is  Harriet,  who  has  always  been  my  docile 
and  obedient  pupil,  often  giving  expression  to  sen- 
timents she  never  learned  from  me ;  talking  about 
the  enfranchisement  of  women,  as  if  the  fulfil- 
ment of  all  prophecy  were  only  waiting  for  this." 

"And  who  knows  that  it  is  not?"  interposed 
his  sister.  "  I  do  not  mean  to  imply  that  all  this 
depends  upon  the  ballot  being  given  them,"  she 
added,  "but  when  women  are  really  enfranchised 
from  the  petty,  narrow  life  they  have  heretofore 
too  often  led,  and  realize  the  grand  possibilities 
which  are  opening  up  to  them,  who  shall  say  that 
the  dawn  of  the  millenium  has  not  come  ? " 

Without  seeming  to  notice  his  sister's  question, 
the  doctor  continued,  — 

"  I  do  not  see  but  that  women  now  have  all  the 


THWARTED    PURPOSES.  151 

real  privileges  which  men  enjoy,  without  the  re- 
sponsibilities and  demands  which  fall  upon  men. 
To  me  they  seem  happily  exempt  in  this  respect." 

"  Yes,  they  do  have  some  privileges.  My  friend 
Jessie  here  has  the  privilege  of  paying  a  yearly 
tax  which  perhaps  one  man  in  fifty  may  average, 
for  the  support  of  the  laws  which  she  can  have  no 
voice  in  making.  If  that  tax  were  collected  of 
me,"  Carrie  went  on,  "  it  should  be  at  some  trou- 
ble to  those  who  collected  it.  If  I  paid  it,  it 
would  be  under  protest  every  time,  and  those  who 
received  it  should  have  the  consciousness  of  doing 
a  mean  and  unfair  thing  ;  for  I  should  feel  it  was 
a  duty  I  owed  to  all  other  women  so  situated,  to 
put  it  in  this  light." 

Jessie  had  not  intended  to  be  brought  into  this 
discussion,  since  she  did  not  endorse  all  her  friend's 
radical  views  on  this  point,  nor  was  she  ready  to 
take  the  other  side  of  the  question,  but  she  now 
made  answer,  — 

"  I  have  no  doubt,  Carrie,  that  in  my  place  you 
would  have  set  a  much  more  worthy  example,  for 
I  am  afraid  I  have  never  given  much  thought  to 
the  duty  you  speak  of;"  then,  smiling  at  the  doctor 
as  she  quoted  his  words,  she  added,  "  My  uncle  has 


152  THWARTED    PURPOSES. 

met  all  such  demands  for  me,  and  happily  I  have 
been  exempt  from  any  responsibility  in  the  mat- 
ter." 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Wilson  gave  the  signal  for 
rising,  and  thus  put  an  end  to  the  conversation 
which  she  knew  had  become  too  personal  to  suit 
the  taste  of  her  niece. 

Jessie  had  feared  that  her  friend's  ultra  views 
might  have  a  tendency  to  make  her  lose  caste  with 
the  doctor,  but  it  did  not  so  appear,  for  several 
times  afterward  he  deferred  to  her  opinion  in  a 
way  that  was  at  least  flattering,  when  his  years  and 
erudition  were  considered.  Evidently  he  was  in 
no  way  repelled,  but  rather  drawn  toward  this  girl, 
whose  gay,  insouciant  manner  seemed  to  have 
piqued  his  interest  and  curiosity. 

"  Carrie,  you  have  certainly  made  a  conquest  of 
the  doctor  to-night.  I  never  saw  him  so  enter- 
taining. What  did  you  do  to  so  wake  him  up  ? " 
Jessie  said  when  she  found  herself  alone  with  her 
friend  after  their  guests  had  gone. 

"Oh !  I  just  tried  to  prevent  his  feeling  dull  and 
bored,  as  I  promised  your  aunt.  Then  you  think 
I  succeeded  ? " 

"You    certainly    succeeded    in    pleasing    him, 


THWARTED    PURPOSES.  153 

though  I  suspect  he  thinks  you  the  least  bit  strong- 
minded." 

"  Yes ;  he  is  sure  to  do  that,  but  he  is  not  half 
the  old  fossil  I  thought  him  ;  though  he  is  pretty 
well  encased  in  his  shell  of  conservatism.  'Wives 
and  mothers'  indeed;  as  if  women  had  nothing  else 
to  do  in  this  world  but  to  be  wives  and  mothers. 
I  wanted  to  ask  him  why  he  had  not  helped  some 
good  woman  to  fulfil  her  destiny,  if  he  thinks  they 
have  no  other,"  was  Carrie's  spirited  animadver- 
sion upon  the  sentiment  which  had  most  provoked 
her  ire. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE. 

ALLEN  and  Roger  Norberry  came  to  Boston 
with  their  father  the  following  week,  and 
from  her  uncle  Jessie  learned  that  Doctor  Carrol 
was  better.  He  had  had  a  stroke  of  paralysis,  but 
seemed  likely  to  recover  the  use  of  his  limbs,  which 
he  had  partially  lost.  Even  this  was  better  than 
the  return  of  his  old  malady  which  Jessie  had 
feared. 

Allan  and  Roger  were  to  stay  a  week  in  the 
city,  and  it  was  soon  apparent  that  they  would  not 
be  at  a  loss  how  to  put  in  the  time.  Allan  de- 
clared his  intention  of  visiting  all  the  shipping  in 
the  harbor,  after  which  he  proposed  to  explore  the 
Arsenal  and  Navy  Yard,  the  Cradle  of  Liberty 
and  Bunker  Hill ;  for,  as  he  said,  "  It  would  never 
do  for  a  grammar-school  boy  to  visit  Boston  with- 
out seeing  the  spot  where  Warren  fell ; "  though 
his  curiosity  seemed  to  centre  about  the  Cradle. 

Roger  was  modestly  content  to  divide  his  time 
'54 


PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE.  155 

between  the  cabs  and  omnibuses,  and  the  candy 
stores. 

Jessie  had  never  found  it  hard  to  control  her 
cousins  before,  but  either  they  had  now  outgrown 
her,  or  the  city  had  completely  turned  their  heads, 
for  she  was  soon  at  her  wits'  end  to  know  what  to 
do  with  them. 

If  in  the  house,  they  drove  Mrs.  Wilson  nearly 
distracted  with  their  noise ;  and  when  turned  loose 
upon  the  Common  they  were  soon  not  to  be  found 
short  of  the  station  house,  where  they  were  sure 
to  turn  up  as  lost  children. 

Their  cousin  had  taken  them  to  picture  galleries, 
toy  stores,  orphan  asylums,  and  the  Museum. 
Climbed  to  the  cupola  of  the  State  House  to  satisfy 
their  piscatorial  curiosity  in  regard  to  the  reser- 
voir, bought  them  candy  at  Copeland's  till  she 
feared  for  them  acute  gastritis,  and  still  these 
young  cormorants  cried,  "More,  more  !  " 

A  week  sufficed  to  exhaust  Jessie's  patience  as 
well  as  her  stock  of  amusements,  and  when  the 
time  came  for  them  to  go  home  she  was  not  loath 
to  part  with  them.  But  one  would  have  thought 
they  were  to  escape  from  "  durance  vile,"  to  have 
heard  their  uproarious  welcome  of  the  announce- 


156  PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE. 

ment  that  they  were  to  go  home.  The  country 
was  at  once  voted  sixteen  times  better  than  the 
city,  though  how  much  this  had  to  do  with  the 
greater  restrictions  indoors,  Jessie  did  not  know. 

They  couldn't  see  what  Cousin  Jessie  wanted  to 
stay  in  old  Boston  for ;  Newbury  was  a  great  deal 
nicer  in  their  opinion  :  and  then,  papa  and  mamma 
and  Baby  were  there.  It  seemed  as  if  they  could 
hardly  wait  to  get  home  to  see  the  latter. 

Roger  asked  his  cousin  if  she  s'posed  little  Bert 
had  growed  up  big  while  they  were  gone.  To 
which  Allan,  in  his  superior  knowledge,  replied  : 
"  No,  course  not ;  fellers  don't  grow  up  big  in  a 
week.  Do  they,  Cousin  Jess  ?  " 

Jessie  told  them  she  had  never  known  such  a 
case,  and  that  she  thougKt  they  would  find  Baby 
Bertie  just  as  they  had  left  him. 

After  putting  them  in  the  care  of  the  conductor 
who  was  to  see  them  home,  she  sent  a  kiss  by 
each  to  the  small  man  who  was  king  of  all  hearts 
in  the  parsonage,  and  as  the  train  whisked  out  of 
the  station,  and  she  caught  the  last  glimpse  of 
two  bright  faces  pressed  against  the  window-pane, 
Jessie  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  regret  that 
she  was  not  going  with  them. 


PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE.  157 

Carrie  Winter's  visit  was  prolonged  far  into  Jan- 
uary, but  she  had  been  gone  now  several  weeks, 
and  still  Jessie  lingered  in  the  city.  She  had  be- 
come so  interested  in  her  music  under  Professor 
Roselle's  system,  that  she  had  not  felt  willing  to 
give  it  up  when  her  friend  left.  Early  in  the  win- 
ter, too,  she  had  joined  a  society  for  mutual  im- 
provement. Their  meetings  were  held  weekly  at 
the  houses  of  the  members,  and  the  ground  gone 
over  in  history  and  poetry  was  something  consider- 
able. Through  Jessie's  persuasions,  Doctor  For- 
ney had  been  induced  to  take  the  leadership  of  this 
class,  and  she  felt  herself  pledged  to  stand  by  it 
until  it  should  disband  in  the  spring. 

Since  she  was  apparently  enjoying  herself  and 
making  so  good  improvement  of  her  time,  her 
Newbury  relatives  had  hesitated  to  recall  her,  and 
with  the  exception  of  a  hasty  visit  which  her  uncle 
and  aunt  had  made  her  about  New  Year's,  she 
had  seen  no  one  from  the  old  town. 

Though  Doctor  Carrol  was  now  quite  comfort- 
able again,  his  family  knew  that  another  attack 
was  to  be  expected  at  any  time,  and  Milton  Carrol 
had  not  been  from  home  since  recalled  by  his 
father's  illness. 


158  PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE. 

Among  Jessie's  friends  this  winter  she  did  not 
count  a  more  pleasant  one  than  Doctor  Forney. 
It  was  no  uncommon  thing  now  for  him  to  drop  in 
unexpectedly  at  any  time  of  day ;  and  more  than 
once  he  had  taken  dinner  with  herself  and  aunt  in 
the  most  informal  way.  He  seemed  to  enjoy  so 
much  being  received  by  them  in  this  manner,  that 
they  soon  dispensed  with  all  ceremony,  and  looked 
for  his  daily  visit  as  quite  a  matter  of  course. 

There  was  always  some  concert,  reading  or  art 
exhibit  to  which  he  had  tickets,  and  which  he 
begged  to  share  with  them  ;  and  as  Mrs.  Wilson's 
health  had  become  nearly  re-established,  she  and 
Jessie  frequently  accompanied  the  doctor  to  such 
entertainments. 

More  than  once,  a  day  had  been  set  for  Jessie 
and  her  aunt  to  dine  with  the  Forneys,  but  when 
the  time  came  Mrs.  Wilson  had  been  indisposed, 
or  the  weather  had  prevented.  But  now  they  had 
promised  to  take  dinner  with  the  doctor  on  his 
birthday,  for  his  sister  had  always  celebrated  these 
anniversaries  by  inviting  some  of  his  friends  to 
eat  a  birthday  cake  with  him. 

On  this  occasion  weather  and  health  proved 
propitious,  and  Jessie  and  her  aunt  had  the  pleas- 


PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE.  159 

ure  of  seeing  the  doctor  in  his  own  home.  The 
former,  at  least,  had  now  to  learn  that  she  had 
never  seen  this  man  at  his  best,  for  the  slightly 
conventional  manner  to  which  she  had  become 
used,  was  laid  aside,  and  in  the  change  which  this 
produced  Jessie  had  the  doctor's  acquaintance  to 
make  over  again. 

And  never  had  she  so  much  enjoyed  the  wit 
and  sparkle  of  the  doctor's  conversation,  which 
was  a  combination  of  the  highest  culture  and  the 
most  genuine  kind-heartedness.  Seeing  him  now 
in  his  own  home,  she  no  longer  wondered  that  his 
sister  was  fond  and  proud  of  him. 

The  dinner  set  before  the  doctor's  guests  was 
an  exquisite  one,  —  perfect  in  its  minutest  details, 
—  such  a  meal  as  only  a  thorough  knowledge  and 
love  of  the  art  of  cookery  can  insure. 

"  This  salad  is  certainly  the  best  I  ever  tasted. 
You  must  have  a  treasure  in  your  cook,  Doctor," 
Mrs.  Wilson  said,  after  being  helped  for  the  second 
time  to  a  dish  which,  in  her  experience,  was  seldom 
a  success. 

"  Yes  ;  my  cook  is  a  treasure,  Mrs.  Wilson,  such 
an  one  as  cannot  be  hired  every  day,  even  on  Bea- 
con street,"  returned  the  doctor,  with  a  twinkle  in 


I6O  PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE. 

his  eye.  "  Harriet  does  make  a  very  good  salad," 
he  added,  doing  justice  to  the  one  before  him. 

"  My  brother  is  so  fond  of  all  kinds  of  salads, 
I  suppose  I  do  keep  my  hand  in  on  that  account," 
Miss  Forney  said,  as  if  her  success  was  due  rather 
to  her  brother's  fondness  for  the  dish,  than  her  own 
skill. 

After  dinner,  while  her  aunt  was  talking  with 
Miss  Forney,  over  some  rare  old  china,  in  which 
occupation  they  seemed  likely  to  spend  the  after- 
noon, Jessie  went  with  the  doctor  to  his  library,  or 
study,  where  the  glowing  grate  and  aroma  of  Rus- 
sia leather  appealed  at  once  to  her  aesthetic  taste. 

"Oh!  what  a  delightful  room,"  she  exclaimed, 
taking  in  its  rich  and  luxurious  appointments,  from 
the  soft  Turkey  carpet  to  the  well-filled  cases  of 
books  which  nearly  covered  three  sides  of  the 
room.  From  two  large  bay  windows  the  light 
entered  through  flowering  vines ;  in  one  of  these 
stood  a  desk  with  a  shaded  lamp,  in  the  other  a 
table  of  exquisite  workmanship  draped  with  a  dain- 
tily embroidered  cloth,  upon  which  were  scattered 
articles  of  vertu. 

"  I  thought  the  study  of  a  literary  man  was  a 
sort  of  den  in  which  he  shut  himself  away  from 


PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE.  l6l 

the  refinements  of  life,  never  so  much  as  allowing 
a  broom  or  duster  to  cross  the  threshold,"  said 
Jessie  gayly.  "  Ah  !  here  is  another  innovation. 
The  thimble  is  used  here  as  well  as  the  pen,"  she 
added,  holding  one  aloft  on  her  index  finger. 

"We  literary  men  are  not  quite  anchorites,  Miss 
Jessie  ;  I  for  one  must  plead  guilty  to  a  weakness 
for  the  amenities  of  life.  Yes  ;  that  is  Harriet's 
thimble,  as  well  as  everything  else  in  that  window, 
for  she  always  sits  here  with  me  when  not  en- 
gaged with  household  duties.  You  remember," 
the  doctor  added,  smiling,  "  that  even  in  Paradise 
Adam  could  not  live  alone." 

"And  I  suppose  Miss  Forney  trained  these 
vines  ;  how  lovely  they  are.  With  all  these  fine 
plants  they  make  your  windows  just  a  little  wilder- 
ness of  bloom." 

"  Yes ;  every  fall  Harriet  brings  the  garden  in- 
doors, and,  like  the  patient  man  that  I  am,  I  give 
it  house-room  here  all  winter,"  said  the  doctor,  with 
an  amusing  assumption  of  martyrdom. 

"  Yes ;  and  very  glad  you  are  to  have  it  here, 
too,  I  suspect,"  was  Jessie's  smiling  rejoinder. 

A  moment  later  the  doctor  had  wheeled  a  large 
easy  chair  before  the  big  centre  table,  and  begging 


l62  PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE. 

Jessie  to  be  seated  in  it,  proposed  to  show  her 
some  fine  views  which  he  had  collected  while 
abroad. 

"  Many  of  these  are  of  places  I  visited  with  your 
father,"  he  said,  while  adjusting  the  glass  to  her 
eye,  after  having  taken  from  a  cabinet  a  pile  of  en- 
gravings which  filled  both  arms. 

In  looking  at  this  collection  the  time  passed  so 
quickly  that  Jessie  could  hardly  believe  two  hours 
had  elapsed. 

And  now  Miss  Forney  entered,  and  claimed  the 
fulfillment  of  a  promise  which  Jessie  had  made  at 
dinner,  to  sing  for  her. 

"  Stephen,  you  have  kept  Miss  Jessie  here  nearly 
two  hours  all  to  yourself,  and  you  cannot  monopo- 
lize her  any  longer,"  said  his  sister,  who  a  moment 
later  led  their  young  guest  off  to  the  parlor,  bid- 
ding her  brother  to  follow,  however,  as  she  would 
not  be  selfish. 

"  A  pleasure  would  be  no  pleasure  to  my  sister 
if  she  could  not  share  it,"  said  the  doctor,  promis- 
ing to  avail  himself  of  her  invitation  as  soon  as  he 
should  have  taken  care  of  the  views  which  were 
evidently  very  precious  to  him. 

Long  after  his  guests  had  gone  home  that  night 


PICTURES    IN   THE   FIRE.  163 

the  rippling  silver  notes  that  had  so  lately  echoed 
through  the  house,  were  still  in  the  doctor's  ears  ; 
and  he  had  only  to  shut  his  eyes  to  see  the  grace- 
ful form  and  sweet  face  which  had  lighted  his 
home  for  a  few  short  hours  :  a  vision  of  sweetness 
and  grace  whose  impalpable  presence  he  even  yet 
felt. 

Miss  Forney  had  come  to  her  brother's  study 
as  usual  after  their  guests  were  gone,  and  seeing 
that  he  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  thought,  she  had 
not  disturbed  him  ;  but,  taking  up  a  bit  of  work, 
had  given  her  attention  to  it.  That  her  brother 
was  indulging  his  fancy  for  seeing  pictures  in  the 
fire  she  well  knew,  as  he  was  sitting  unoccupied  in 
his  easy  chair  before  the  glowing  grate  of  coals. 
It  was  her  habit  to  wait  upon  her  brother's  moods, 
and  since  he  seemed  indisposed  for  conversation, 
she  was  content  to  remain  silent. 

The  evening  was  broken,  and  he  had  found  him- 
self unable  to  settle  to  his  work  as  usual,  for  com- 
ing constantly  before  his  mental  vision  was  the 
picture  of  a  slight  girlish  figure  in  a  pale  blue  silk, 
with  soft  white  lace  forming  a  corsage  through 
which  the  contour  of  a  faultless  neck  was  visible. 
A  complexion  dazzlingly  fair  as  the  sun  upon  snow, 


164  PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE. 

and  a  mass  of  rippling  light  brown  hair,  which  only 
made  more  resplendent  the  soft  changeful  orbs 
which  were  the  great  charm  of  this  face. 

This  was  the  picture  upon  which  the  doctor  had 
been  gazing,  but,  looking  up,  his  glance  fell  upon 
his  sister's  figure,  robed  in  the  simple  black  silk 
which  was  her  customary  dress. 

"  Harriet,  why  do  you  always  wear  black  ? 
Have  you  no  light  dresses  ? "  he  suddenly  asked. 

"  Why,  yes  ;  but  I  think  black  is  more  becoming 
my  age.  Why,  don't  you  like  me  in  black  ?  You 
never  said  anything  about  it  before,  and  I  have 
worn  it  constantly  since  mother's  death,"  was  Miss 
Forney's  response,  startled  out  of  her  usual  pla- 
cidity by  the  strangeness  of  her  brother's  mood. 

"  Mrs.  Wilson  is  older  than  you,  and  a  widow 
beside,  but  she  does  not  seem  to  think  it  neces- 
sary to  confine  herself  to  so  sombre  a  color,"  was 
the  evasive  reply. 

"  I  am  sorry  if  you  have  become  tired  of  seeing 
me  in  black,  Stephen,  for  I  have  thought  I  could 
never  wear  anything  else,"  Miss  Forney  said,  lay- 
ing down  her  work  as  she  spoke.  Seeing  that  she 
was  taking  the  matter  quite  seriously,  the  doctor 
hastened  to  add : 


PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE.  165 

"  Oh  !  wear  whatever  you  like,  sister.  You  cer- 
tainly are  free  to  please  yourself  in  the  matter, 
and  must  not  mind  my  crotchets.  I  think  I  have 
a  weakness  for  bright  colors  ;  perhaps  it  is  com- 
mon to  my  sex,  but  that  is  no  reason  you  should 
make  a  guy  of  yourself  to  please  me.  After  all," 
he  rejoined,  smiling,  "  I  am  not  sure  that  I  should 
like  you  to  be  a  walking  rainbow ;  for  though  rain- 
bows are  well  enough  in  their  place,  they  might 
not  be  improved  by  a  background  of  green  carpets 
and  red  silk  terry." 

Miss  Forney  resumed  her  work.  Evidently  the 
little  lady  was  satisfied  that  a  change  in  her  dress 
was  not  a  matter  of  vital  importance  to  her 
brother's  happiness,  for  he  had  returned  again  to 
his  pictures  in  the  fire. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 
THE  DOCTOR'S  AVOWAL. 

AUNTY,  this  is  the  last  lesson  of  my  quarter, 
and  I  shall  tell  the  professor  to-day  that  I 
will  not  continue  them.  I  propose  next  week  to 
favor  my  friends  in  Newbury  with  my  presence. 
Aunt  Kitty  wrote  me  yesterday  that  they  should 
not  spare  me  any  longer,  and  if  she  did  not  speed- 
ily hear  I  was  coming  home,  she  and  uncle  would 
come  and  fetch  me."  As  Jessie  spoke  she  was 
drawing  on  her  gloves,  and  the  next  moment,  with 
a  gay  Au  revoir!  she  had  quitted  the  room  for  her 
lesson. 

But  on  her  way  down-stairs  she  became  aware 
that  some  one  had  just  entered  the  reception-room, 
and  the  next  moment  a  servant  had  placed  in  her 
hand  Doctor  Forney's  card. 

"  I  will  take  off  my  things,  or  he  will  feel  his 
call  an  intrusion,"  was  her  thought,  which  she 
acted  upon  before  going  in  to  receive  her  visitor. 

"  I  am  fortunate,  Miss  Jessie,  to  find  you  still  in 
166 


THE  DOCTOR'S  AVOWAL.  167 

town  ;  I  feared  you  might  not  be,"  said  the  doctor, 
evidently  not  a  little  pleased  that  his  fear  was  not 
verified. 

"  I  was  just  telling  aunty  that  I  must  go  to 
Newbury  next  week  if  I  would  not  have  a  writ  of 
habeas  corptis  served  on  me,"  was  Jessie's  smiling 
response.  Then  she  inquired  for  Miss  Forney, 
whom  she  declared  her  intention  of  calling  upon 
before  leaving  the  city. 

"  Harriet  would  certainly  be  very  disappointed 
if  you  did  not,"  the  doctor  said,  somewhat  ab- 
sently, and  then  for  some  reason  speech  seemed 
to  fail  him,  since  he  attempted  once  or  twice  to 
say  something,  but  stopped  as  if  unable  to  express 
himself. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  acquaintance  with  the 
doctor  Jessie  found  herself  in  the  position  of  en- 
tertainer ;  for  the  man  who  was  never  at  a  loss  for 
subject  matter  of  conversation,  now  apparently 
had  nothing  to  say. 

The  situation  was  becoming  the  least  bit  awk- 
ward, when  Jessie  suddenly  remembered  that  the 
doctor  had  inquired  for  her  aunt  when  he  first 
came  in. 

"I  will  speak  to  aunty,"  she  said,  rising  to  touch 


1 68  THE  DOCTOR'S  AVOWAL. 

the  bell,  but  before  she  could  do  so  the  doctor 
made  a  gesture  to  detain  her. 

"I  shall  be  happy  to  see  Mrs.  Wilson  presently," 
he  said,  "but  first  I  would  like  a  few  words  with 
yourself."  Then,  as  if  the  sound  of  his  own  voice 
had  pioved  the  incentive  he  needed,  he  went  on  : 
"  Miss  Jessie,  I  came  here  to-night  to  make  a  con- 
fession, and  to  ask  you  a  question  ;  not  one  of 
ethics  social  or  moral,  but  the  old  one  about  which 
all  the  poetry  and  romance  of  the  ages  has  cen- 
tred :  for  I  came  to  tell  you  that  I  love  you,  and 
to  ask  you  to  be  my  wife.  I  know  I  am  an  awk- 
ward suitor,  but  let  me  prove  to  you  that  I  can  be 
a  devoted  lover." 

In  saying  this  last  the  doctor  had  come  over  to 
her,  and  taken  the  hand  which  she  yielded  pas- 
sively to  his  clasp ;  but  in  the  flushed  and  trou- 
bled face  he  read  what  boded  no  success  to  his 
suit. 

"  Do  not  answer  me  yet,  please,"  he  said  ear- 
nestly ;  "  I  see  I  have  taken  you  by  surprise.  I 
know  it  is  a  great  deal  that  I  ask,  and  had  I  loved 
you  less  it  might  seem  like  presumption  to  expect 
you  would  give  yourself  to  me.  I  trusted  that 
love  had  made  me  worthy,  since  it  has  made  me 


THE  DOCTOR'S  AVOWAL.  169 

bold."  The  tone  was  so  gentle,  and  even  suppli- 
cating, that  Jessie  found  herself  contrasting  it 
with  the  doctor's  usual  confident  one. 

She  found  it  impossible  now  to  speak  the  words 
of  protest  which  had  instantly  sprung  to  her  lips  ; 
but,  oh  !  why  did  he  not  see  that  what  he  asked 
could  never  be  ? 

As  she  did  not  reply  the  doctor  went  on  to  tell 
her  how  his  love  for  her  had  grown,  even  against 
his  better  judgment,  which  had  told  him  that  it 
was  folly  for  him  to  think  of  her  in  this  way.  He 
told  of  the  struggle  he  had  had  with  himself  be- 
fore he  succumbed  to  a  passion  which  had  carried 
captive  every  imagination  of  his  heart. 

When  he  had  finished  speaking  tears  stood  in 
Jessie's  eyes,  and  as  soon  as  she  could  speak  she 
said,  with  touching  earnestness  :  "  I  hope  you  will 
believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  did  not  dream 
you  felt  towards  me  in  this  way.  Have  I  ever 
given  ? "  —  She  could  not  finish  this  sentence,  but 
the  doctor  understood  what  she  would  have  said. 

"  No  ;  I  acquit  you  of  ever  giving  me  any  en- 
couragement, but  still  I  hoped  that  you  might  not 
find  it  impossible  to  look  upon  me  as  your  hus- 
band." 


I/O  THE    DOCTORS    AVOWAL. 

Jessie  was  conscious  of  a  slight  tremor  that 
passed  over  her  nerves  as  he  spoke,  and  possibly 
this  involuntary  shrinking  to  which  they  had  re- 
sponded had  been  perceptible  to  the  doctor,  for  he 
immediately  relinquished  her  hand. 

"  Then  I  have  hoped  in  vain  ?  You  cannot 
think  of  me  in  such  a  relation  ? "  The  tone  was 
so  sad  that  Jessie  found  .herself  strongly  moved 
by  it. 

The  doctor  knew  that  his  suit  was  virtually  re- 
jected, but  he  must  have  confirmation  of  it  from 
her  lips. 

"  I  have  always  looked  upon  you  as  so  much 
superior  to  myself,  that  it  did  not  occur  to  me 
such  a  relation  could  exist  between  us.  I  thought 
all  your  kindness  was  shown  to  my  father's  daugh- 
ter. You  were  papa's  friend,  and  so  you  were 
mine." 

"  I  see,  child,  you  have  not  found  any  response 
in  your  heart  to  my  love.  The  fact  of  your  father's 
friendship  for  me  has  made  you  tolerant  of  the 
claim  I  have  made  upon  your  kindness.  I  should 
not  have  expected  your  youth  would  mate  with  my 
years.  I  suppose  I  have  seemed  like  an  old  man 
to  you." 


THE  DOCTOR'S  AVOWAL.  171 

"  I  never  thought  of  you  in  that  way ;  but 
always  as  my  kindest  and  most  trusted  friend." 
Jessie's  earnestness  had  given  emphasis  to  her 
words,  and,  seemingly,  the  doctor  found  in  them  a 
ray  of  hope,  for  he  said  quickly  : 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  could  not  go  a 
step  further  in  your  regard  for  me  ?  Is  it  impos- 
sible your  friendship  should  ripen  into  love  ?  If 
you  will  give  me  this  hope  I  will  wait  years  for 
you,  though  I  have  none  to  lose." 

To  the  doctor's  gentle  persuasiveness  a  weaker 
woman  might  have  yielded.  For  a  moment  Jessie 
found  herself  held  by  the  subtle  magnetism  of  this 
man's  will.  To  temporize  and  thus  retain  the 
friendship  she  had  found  so  pleasant,  was  a  tempt- 
ation, as  was  also  the  desire  not  to  wound  his 
feelings.  But  even  while  he  had  been  speaking 
she  realized  that  her  heart  did  not  respond  in  the 
least  measure  to  him  who  sought  the  closest  and 
tenderest  of  ties  with  her.  If  he  were  to  pass  en- 
tirely out  of  her  life  the  sun  would  still  shine,  the 
flowers  bloom,  and  the  world  seem  fair  and  sweet. 
For  a  time  she  would  miss  him,  perhaps,  and  there 
would  always  be  a  feeling  of  regret  that  anything 
should  have  come  between  their  friendship ;  but 


1/2  THE    DOCTORS    AVOWAL. 

this  would  be  all,  for  conscience  acquitted  her  of 
doing  aught  to  win  the  love  she  must  now  reject. 
For  she  must  be  true  to  herself,  though  forced  to 
say  what  she  would  gladly  have  avoided. 

"  Something  tells  me  that  I  should  never  be  able 
to  feel  to  you  as  a  wife  ought,  and  I  could  not 
vow  at  God's  altar  to  love,  honor  and  hold  to  till 
death,  any  one  to  whom  my  heart  did  not  spon- 
taneously go  out.  I  am  not  worthy  of  what  you 
offer  me,"  she  continued  earnestly,  "  else  I  should 
not  have  been  so  blind.  I  should  have  had  some 
premonition  of  your  feeling  toward  me.  I  should 
have  found  myself  able  to  return  a  love  which  any 
woman  might  be  proud  to  have  inspired." 

"  Do  not  depreciate  yourself,  child,  nor  take  any 
blame  for  my  mistake.  The  fault  is  entirely  my 
own  ;  but  I  hope  it  has  not  forfeited  me  your  con- 
fidence and  esteem.  Since  I  must  be  content 
with  your  friendship,  do  not  scant  the  measure ; 
and  if  at  any  time  I  can  serve  you,  remember  that 
I  shall  be  glad  to  prove  to  you  that  I  cherish  only 
gratitude  for  your  patience  and  candor  to-day." 

The  doctor  was  gone,  and  Jessie  still  sat  where 
he  had  left  her. 

"  How  kind  he  is,  and  how  worthy  of  a  good 


THE    DOCTORS    AVOWAL.  1/3 

woman's  love ;  but  how  strange  that  he  should 
have  thought  of  me  in  this  way.  If  he  had  pro- 
posed to  aunty,  I  think  it  would  not  have  surprised 
me  more." 

It  occurred  to  Jessie  now  that  unless  she  wished 
to  give  her  aunt  a  full  account  of  her  interview 
with  the  doctor,  it  would  be  better  that  that  lady 
should  not  know  of  his  call.  A  few  moments  later, 
music-roll  in  hand,  she  had  quitted  the  house ;  but 
now  her  lesson  would  depend  entirely  upon  the 
mood  in  which  she  found  the  professor,  since  it 
was  considerably  past  her  usual  hour. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

MISS  NORBERRY'S  STRATAGEM. 

LIKE  most  river  towns,  Newbury  had  its  an- 
nual picnic  in  which  old  and  young  joined. 
To  go  down  the  river  was  to  the  former  a  day  spent 
in  the  open  air  with  friends  and  neighbors,  plenty 
of  good  cheer,  returning  at  night  more  tired  than 
if  the  time  had  been  passed  at  the  wash-tub.  But 
to  the  young  people  it  meant  feasting,  flirting,  fun 
and  frolic  —  a  riotous  good  time,  and  no  restric- 
tions. 

The  notice  of  such  a  picnic  had  been  duly  given 
from  the  pulpit,  and  the  festival  appointed  for  the 
following  Thursday.  In  the  three  intervening 
days  food  enough  was  cooked  up  in  the  town  to 
provision  a  regiment.  Lunch-baskets,  pails  and 
boxes  were  put  in  readiness,  and  everything  made 
ready  for  the  general  good  time  which  came  but 
once  a  year. 

On  the  morning  of  the  picnic  the  minister  was 
called  to  Newbury  Hill.  Aunt  Judith  Lucas,  as 

174 


MISS  NORBERRY  S  STRATAGEM.        1/5 

she  was  familiarly  called  in  the  town,  had  been 
taken  seriously  ill  in  the  night,  and  in  one  of  the 
intervals  of  agonizing  pain,  had  asked  to  see  her 
pastor.  So  at  daylight  the  minister  was  sent  for, 
and  his  wife  accompanied  him  to  Aunt  Judith's 
bedside.  Mrs.  Norberry's  plans  for  the  day  had 
been  quite  different,  but  she  could  not  go  away  on 
this  pleasure  party  and  leave  her  old  friend  in  her 
last  extremity. 

The  summons  to  Newbury  Hill  had  reached  the 
parsonage  before  any  of  the  family  were  up ;  and 
a  little  later  the  minister's  niece  was  roused  from 
her  morning  nap  by  a  rap  on  her  door.  Suppos- 
ing she  had  overslept,  and  that  a  servant  had  been 
sent  to  call  her,  Jessie  answered,  "  Yes,  Mary,  I 
will  get  right  up  ; "  but  she  sprang  instantly  from 
her  bed,  with  a  premonition  of  ill,  when  her  aunt 
Kitty  responded,  —  "  It  is  I,  Jessie  ;  and  I  want  to 
see  you."  A  moment  later  the  girl  was  listening 
to  the  sad  news  from  Newbury  Hill :  Aunt  Judith 
Lucas  was  not  expected  to  live  through  the  day. 
"  You  see,  dear,  I  must  go  to  Aunt  Judith.  But 
the  boys  will  be  very  much  disappointed.  They 
have  talked  of  nothing  but  the  picnic  for  the  last 
fortnight.  I  wish  now  it  had  been  postponed  till 


176  MISS  NORBERRY'S  STRATAGEM. 

next  week,  as  your  uncle  suggested,"  Mrs.  Nor- 
berry  added,  trying  to  reconcile  her  desire  to  be 
with  her  old  friend,  and  the  natural  wish  not  to 
deprive  her  children  of  a  pleasure. 

"  Yes  ;  the  day  will  be  spoiled  for  them  without 
you,"  returned  Jessie,  for  the  moment  losing  sight 
of  the  greater  anxiety,  in  the  lesser  one  of  her 
cousins'  disappointment.  "  But  of  course  you 
must  go.  Poor,  dear  Aunt  Judith  !  I  wish  I  could 
do  something  for  her  myself,"  she  added,  with 
husky  voice,  remembering  how  soon  this  kind 
friend  might  be  beyond  any  earthly  service. 

"  Aunt  Judith  has  for  years  expected  a  sudden 
call  home,  and  there  is  no  doubt  but  she  is  ready. 
The  sorrow  and  loss  is  ours,  who  will  have  to  part 
with  her,"  was  Mrs.  Norberry's  rejoinder.  "  I 
hope  the  boys  will  not  give  you  any  trouble,  dear, 
for  I  shall  have  to  put  them  in  your  care,"  Mrs. 
Norberry  continued,  and  leaving  a  few  charges  for 
her  children,  who  were  not  yet  awake,  she  joined 
her  husband  in  his  errand  of  love  to  the  dying. 

Allan  and  Roger  were  inconsolable  on  learning 
their  mother  was  not  to  go  with  them  that  day, 
and  for  a  time  they  refused  to  be  reconciled  to 
the  disappointment. 


MISS  NORBERRY  S  STRATAGEM.       I// 

If  mamma  wasn't  going  there  wouldn't  be  any 
fun,  and  they  didn't  care  anything  about  it.  They 
would  stay  at  home. 

But  as  Jessie  continued  to  make  arrangements 
for  the  day,  notwithstanding  this  decision,  they 
apparently  thought  better  of  it,  and  after  a  time 
condescended  to  help  in  packing  the  lunch-basket 
with  the  goodies  their  mother  had  laid  out. 

When  Jessie  left  the  house  with  her  charges  an 
hour  later  they  were  in  high  good  humor,  and 
swelling  with  importance  over  having  the  large 
lunch-basket  entrusted  to  their  care.  On  reaching 
the  pier  and  seeing  the  gayly-decorated  barge 
which  was  to  take  them  down  river,  their  cousin 
found  it  hard  to  restrain  their  impatience  to  go  at 
once  on  board.  But  this  they  could  not  do,  as  the 
barge  was  not  yet  drawn  up  alongside  the  wharf, 
and  the  tug  which  was  to  take  it  in  tow  was  still 
snorting  and  blowing  in  the  process  of  getting  up 
steam  for  its  work. 

The  party  were  off  at  last  amid  much  cheering 
of  the  youthful  voyagers,  and  adieus  to  friends  on 
the  pier  who  were  to  be  left  behind. 

Among  the  latter  was  Miss  Norberry,  who  had 
declined  joining  the  picnic  party,  but  who  at  the 


178  MISS  NORBERRY'S  STRATAGEM. 

last  moment  had  taken  a  fancy  to  see  them  off. 
A  few  minutes  after  Jessie  left  the  house  with  the 
children,  her  Aunt  Helen  had  started  on  her  morn- 
ing walk,  taking  the  pier  on  her  way. 

She  wished  to  satisfy  herself  whether  or  no 
Milton  Carrol  was  of  the  party,  and  it  was  with 
no  little  satisfaction  that  she  learned  of  his  ab- 
sence from  town  ;  Jessie  would  be  safe  from  him 
for  at  least  that  day.  She  wondered  if  her  niece 
had  known  that  he  would  not  go  on  this  picnic, 
and  whether  she  would  have  cared  to  go  herself 
had  she  known  it. 

Since  she  had  no  means  of  satisfying  these 
queries,  Miss  Norberry  was  fain  to  find  her  solace 
in  the  fact  that  they  would  not  be  together  on  this 
occasion. 

She  often  lamented  her  niece's  vulgar  taste  in 
the  choice  of  friends.  How  Jessie  could  like  such 
common  sort  of  people  as  she  seemed  to,  was  a 
mystery  to  her.  Nothing  would  have  induced  her 
to  spend  a  day  in  this  way  with  her  brother's  par- 
ishioners ;  for  she  did  not  find  Newbury  society 
congenial,  and  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  she  had 
no  intimate  friends  in  the  town. 

Squire  Lynde's  wife  who  came  of  a  family  that 


MISS  NORBERRY'S  STRATAGEM.  179 

stood  high  in  the  State,  she  had  found  worthy  of 
her  friendship  ;  nor  did  she  ignore  Aunt  Judith 
Lucas'  claims  to  her  consideration,  since  the  for- 
mer's father  had  been  a  well-known  divine. 

At  these  two  houses  Miss  Norberry  often  vis- 
ited, and  not  infrequently  met  at  both  places  the 
wives  and  daughters  of  the  neighboring  farmers ; 
but  as  she  had  in  an  eminent  degree  the  faculty  of 
holding  at  arms'  length  any  one  whose  acquaint- 
ance she  did  not  desire,  the  result  of  these  meet- 
ings was  not  a  better  understanding  of  the  people 
who  for  her  brother's  sake  would  gladly  have  been 
friends  with  her.  They  were  doubtless  very  good 
and  worthy,  she  was  wont  to  say  :  but  she  had 
nothing  in  common  with  them,  as  her  life,  tastes 
and  habit  of  thought  were  entirely  different ;  so 
it  was  useless  for  her  to  seek  to  assimilate  with 
them.  When  her  niece  was  at  the  parsonage  Miss 
Norberry  spent  most  of  her  time  there ;  but  she 
had  never  liked  the  old  town,  and  had  her  means 
been  sufficient  to  have  kept  up  an  establishment 
of  her  own  after  her  mother's  death,  she  would 
not  have  consented  to  live  with  her  brother.  She 
was  now  looking  forward  to  the  time  when  Jessie 
would  be  of  age,  as  she  would  then  come  into  her 


i8o  MISS  NORBERRY'S  STRATAGEM. 

mother's  property,  when  she  determined  to  return 
to  the  city,  counting  upon  her  unbounded  influ- 
ence over  her  niece  to  order  her  future  as  she 
pleased. 

But  of  late  a  danger  had  menaced  her  cherished 
scheme.  If,  after  all,  Jessie  were  to  marry  and  set- 
tle in  Newbury,  what  would  become  of  her  well- 
laid  plans  ?  She  would  have  had  no  fears  of  such 
a  vexatious  ending  of  her  hopes  but  for  Milton 
Carrol ;  for  there  was  no  one  else  in  the  town 
who  would  think  of  aspiring  to  her  niece's  hand. 
Of  him,  however,  she  did  feel  afraid,  and  more  par- 
ticularly that  she  could  not  learn  just  how  matters 
stood  between  Jessie  and  him.  She  hoped  her 
niece  would  marry  Doctor  Forney,  who  would  be 
able  to  give  her  the  social  position  to  which  her 
birth  entitled  her  ;  and  for  this  marriage  Miss  Nor- 
berry  had  long  planned  and  schemed.  By  it  she 
would  herself  attain  the  acme  of  her  hopes.  Her 
last  days  would  be  spent  in  or  near  the  city  of 
her  choice. 

Though  she  was  annoyed  that  the  engagement 
was  so  long  delayed,  she  believed  that  it  would 
yet  come  about  if  Jessie  was  not  in  the  meantime 
thrown  in  Milton  Carrol's  way.  She  was  aware 


MISS  NORBERRY'S  STRATAGEM.  181 

of  having  blundered  the  year  before  in  sending  the 
girl  away  from  her  ;  for  in  so  doing  she  had  brought 
about  just  what  she  wished  to  avoid,  since  a  more 
intimate  acquaintance,  if  nothing  else,  was  the  re- 
sult of  those  weeks  spent  together  at  the  mount- 
ains. Jessie  had  very  little  to  say  about  that 
time,  but  her  aunt  did  not  doubt  that  here  was  to 
be  found  the  reason  of  her  delayed  engagement 
with  the  doctor. 

But  though  she  had  not  been  able  to  learn  the 
state  of  Jessie's  feelings  in  regard  to  Milton  Car- 
rol, circumstances  had  made  her  more  fortunate  in 
his  case.  Meeting  him  one  day  on  the  street,  she 
had  stopped  and  inquired  for  his  father's  health, 
and  been  otherwise  so  gracious,  that  in  the  hunger 
of  his  heart,  Milton  Carrol  had  asked  if  Jessie 
were  well,  and  if  she  were  not  soon  coming  home. 

Miss  Norberry  had  replied  that  her  niece  was  in 
very  good  health,  but  that  her  return  was  quite 
uncertain  ;  and  then  her  evil  genius  prompted  her 
to  add  what  she  regretted  as  soon  as  uttered  —  that 
Doctor  Forney  would  probably  have  something  to 
say  about  Jessie's  coming  home,  as  it  was  in  def- 
erence to  his  wishes  she  had  remained  in  the  city 
so  long. 


1 82  MISS  NORBERRY'S  STRATAGEM. 

"  Is  Miss  Jessie  engaged  to  Doctor  Forney  ? " 

Miss  Norberry  was  not  prepared  for  this  direct 
question,  but  she  rallied  herself  and  answered, 
"  It  looks  very  much  like  it,  does  it  not  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  It  has  not  been  my  privilege 
to  hear  from  Miss  Jessie  of  late,"  returned  Mr. 
Carrol,  who  added :  "  Have  you  any  reason  for 
thinking  she  is  engaged  to  him  ?  Is  she  likely  to 
make  such  a  marriage  ?  " 

Miss  Norberry  felt  herself  arraigned  by  this 
question,  but  she  responded,  "  In  all  human  prob- 
ability she  will;  but  still  one  never  knows  just 
what  a  woman  means  in  such  a  matter  by  what  she 
says."  Miss  Norberry  had  laughed  as  this  last 
admission  slipped  from  her  tongue. 

"  I  believe  you.  But  I  do  not  believe  Miss  Jes- 
sie will  marry  the  doctor."  The  defiant  tone  in 
which  Mr.  Carrol  had  said  this  angered  the  woman 
who  had  thought  to  be  herself  inquisitor. 

"  Perhaps,  Mr.  Carrol,  you  have  had  hopes  in 
that  direction  yourself,"  was  her  retort. 

"  If  I  ever  had  such  a  hope,  it  would  have  long 
since  died  of  inanition,  since  I  have  had  nothing  to 
feed  it,"  Milton  Carrol  had  said  bitterly. 

If  Miss  Norberry's  nature  had  been  less  hard 


MISS  NORBERRY'S  STRATAGEM.  183 

and  selfish  she  would  have  been  satisfied  with  the 
stab  she  had  already  given  ;  but  having  determined 
that  this  man  should  never  marry  her  niece,  and 
fearing  he  would  yet  interfere  to  prevent  her  mar- 
riage with  the  doctor,  she  had  resolved  to  show 
him  that  any  aspirations  on  his  own  part  to  Jes- 
sie's hand  were  futile.  The  opportunity  was  too 
good  to  be  lost,  and  she  hastened  to  follow  her 
first  blow  with  one  that  struck  deeper. 

"  You  do  well,  Mr.  Carrol,  not  to  feed  any  such 
hope,"  she  said,  with  no  small  degree  of  hauteur. 
"  Jessie  Norberry  has  too  much  respect  for  her  old 
family  name  ever  to  ally  it  with  a  dishonored  one ; 
to  say  nothing  of  the  physical  disability  to  mar- 
riage which  you  inherit  as  your  father's  son." 

Had  it  been  a  man  who  had  thus  assailed  him 
Milton  Carrol  would  have  laid  his  antagonist  in  the 
dust ;  but  as  it  was  a  woman,  with  a  gesture  of  proud 
disdain  he  raised  his  hat  and  bade  her  good  day. 

Never  in  her  life  had  Miss  Norberry  felt  so  dis- 
comfited ;  she  had  gained  her  purpose,  but  at  the 
loss  of  no  little  self-respect,  since  she  knew  that 
only  her  sex  had  saved  her  from  the  wrath  of  this 
man  whose  forbearance  had  been  the  very  quint- 
essence of  high  breeding. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

DOWN    RIVER. 

THE  day  was  warm  enough  to  make  the  shadow 
of  the  grove  delightful,  and  Jessie  had 
found  no  trouble  in  keeping  her  cousins  away  from 
the  water.  After  serving  them  their  dinner  in 
true  picnic  fashion,  she  had  led  them  off  on  a  wild, 
joyous  ramble  through  the  woods,  where  her  own 
enthusiasm  and  love  of  adventure  fired  their  ar- 
dent young  spirits,  and  made  them  her  ready  fol- 
lowers. They  were  returning  to  the  grove  laden 
with  wood  spoils,  when  they  met  a  party  of  boys, 
who  in  cruising  about  the  neighboring  shore  had 
found  a  quantity  of  fragrant  river  pinks.  Nothing 
in  the  bouquet  of  wild  flowers  which  Allan  was 
carrying  would  at  all  compare  with  them ;  and  he 
was  at  once  seized  with  the  desire  to  possess  some 
of  these  rare  and  beautiful  flowers. 

"  I  will  go  and  get  some  for  myself.  You  keep 
them,"  he  said,  when  a  few  were  offered  him  ;  and 
Jessie  met  an  eager,  animated  face  raised  to  her 

184 


DOWN    RIVER.  185 

own,  and  knew  she  was  expected  to  endorse  this 
proposition. 

"  No,  Allan,  you  cannot  go,"  she  said  quietly, 
hoping  he  would  accept  her  decision  as  final,  and 
take  the  proffered  flowers,  which  he  evidently 
coveted. 

"  Why  not  ?  It  won't  take  more  than  ten  min- 
utes just  to  row  over  there.  John  Hines  says  he'll 
go  with  me.  Say,  can't  I  ?"  and  with  boyish  per- 
sistence Allan  rung  the  changes  upon  this  till  Jes- 
sie was  obliged  to  be  very  decided  in  her  refusal. 

"  You  know,  Allan,  your  mother  expressly  said 
you  were  not  to  get  into  a  boat.  So  you  need  not 
say  anything  more  about  it." 

"Mamma  meant  alone,  I  know  she  did.  'Course 
she  would  let  me  go  with  a  big  feller  like  John 
Hines,"  was  Allan's  angry  protest  against  the  in- 
justice of  his  cousin's  refusal. 

He  might  be  right ;  quite  possibly  his  mother 
would  have  let  him  go  if  she  were  here,  but  Jessie 
felt  that  she  could  not  in  the  face  of  her  prohibition. 

"I  promised  your  mother  that  you  should  not 
get  into  a  boat,  Allan,  and  she  trusted  you  to  me. 
It  is  not  like  me  to  do  what  I  say  I  will  not.  Is 
it?" 


1 86  DOWN    RIVER. 

John  Hines  here  signified  his  willingness  to  go 
and  get  some  of  these  pinks  for  Allan,  since  it 
was  only  a  short  distance,  he  said,  and  would  take 
him  but  a  few  minutes.  Allan  was  a  sort  of  auto- 
crat among  the  boys  of  the  town,  and  there  were 
few  of  them  but  would  have  been  willing  to  serve 
him. 

"  No ;  if  I  am  such  a  baby  that  I  can't  go  for 
them  myself,  I  won't  have  them,"  Allan  said  an- 
grily. "  Girls  are  always  so  'fraid,"  he  added  con- 
temptuously. '  "  You  might  let  me,  Jess.  I  know 
mamma  would  if  she  were  here."  Seeing  that  this 
appeal  was  useless,  Allan  angrily  threw  away  the 
flowers  which  a  few  moments  before  he  had  so 
treasured. 

"  We  will  walk  along  by  the  shore,  and  possibly 
we  may  find  some,"  was  Jessie's  proposition,  but 
Allan  was  not  to  be  so  easily  won  from  his  fit  of 
sullenness  ;  for  he  allowed  her  and  Roger  to  start 
on  this  quest  before  a  better  spirit  came  to  him. 

But  presently,  glancing  back,  she  saw  he  was 
following,  and  when  he  finally  came  up  with  them 
she  was  in  the  middle  of  a  story  she  had  been 
telling  Roger.  Punishment  as  it  was  to  him  to 
lose  one  of  his  cousin's  stories,  he  assumed  an  in- 


DOWN    RIVER.  187 

difference  which  might  have  deceived  one  who  did 
not  know  him  ;  but  Jessie  saw  at  once  that  it  but 
added  to  his  previous  ill-nature. 

Jessie's  search  for  pinks  was  not  rewarded, 
though  they  followed  the  shore  for  quite  a  little 
distance  ;  perhaps  for  the  reason  that  this  spot 
was  too  much  the  resort  of  pleasure  parties  to 
make  treasure -finding  likely.  But  Allan  for  a  few 
moments  almost  lost  sight  of  his  resentment  in 
his  satisfaction  at  proving  his  cousin  mistaken. 

"  'Course  there  ain't  any  here.  I  knew  there 
wasn't  all  the  time,"  he  said,  still  hugging  his 
grievance. 

Satisfied  that  they  were  not  to  be  found,  Jessie 
proposed  returning  to  the  grove,  whither  every 
one  but  themselves  seemed  to  have  gone.  Here 
they  found  the  company  amusing  themselves 
watching  the  efforts  of  some  of  their  number  to 
knock  down  a  pole  which  was  set  loosely  in  the 
ground. 

This  they  hoped  to  accomplish  by  throwing 
stones  at  it,  but  there  were  a  dozen  shots  which 
missed  to  one  that  affected  in  the  least  the  equi- 
librium of  the  pole  ;  and  no  one  had  yet  succeeded 
in  sending  it  down.  The  game  finally  became 


1 88  DOWN    RIVER. 

quite  general  as  the  lookers-on  were  seized  with  a 
desire  to  accomplish  where  others  failed,  for  the 
pole  seemed  to  defy  all  missiles  aimed  at  it.  This 
was  the  state  of  things  when  Jessie  reached  the 
grove  with  her  cousins.  And  a  few  moments  later 
Allan  had  made  himself  the  hero  of  the  hour  by 
a  lucky  shot,  which  so  swayed  the  pole  from  its 
position  that  an  instant  afterwards  it  was  flat  upon 
the  ground. 

"  Good  !  Well  done  !  "  echoed  on  every  side, 
and  the  meed  of  praise  was  not  less  hearty  that  it 
was  the  minister's  boy  who  had  proved  the  suc- 
cessful competitor. 

This  episode  seemed  to  entirely  restore  Allan's 
good  nature ;  but  apparently  he  had  wearied  of 
restraint,  for  he  at  once  asserted  his  independence 
by  joining  a  group  of  big  boys,  who  hailed  the 
candidate  of  recent  honors  with  vociferous  cheers, 
and  made  a  place  for  him  at  once.  The  game  of 
"fox and  geese"  was  now  proposed,  and  presently  a 
goodly  number  were  engaged  in  this  amusing  play. 

Jessie  felt  that  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  leave 
Allan  to  himself  awhile,  knowing  that  after  a  time 
he  would  seek  her  side,  and  be  as  sweet  and  win- 
ning as  she  could  wish.  She  saw  that  he  was  soon 


DOWN    RIVER.  189 

entirely  absorbed  in  the  game  which  was  new  to 
him,  and  had  evidently  forgotten  her  entirely. 
Then  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  might  herself  go 
and  get  some  of  the  pinks  which  he  had  desired, 
and  she  determined  to  do  so. 

She  had  never  happened  to  come  upon  these 
river  beauties,  though  she  had  heard  wonderful 
tales  of  their  discovery  in  out-of-the-way  places. 
Now  she  would  have  a  chance  to  see  them  grow- 
ing, and  it  would  be  such  a  surprise  and  pleasure 
to  Allan  to  really  have  some  of  the  coveted  flowers, 
after  all. 

The  game  in  which  he  was  so  much  interested 
was  likely  to  last  some  time  longer,  and  mean- 
while she  could  slip  away  to  the  cove  and  return 
before  he  would  miss  her.  If  he  did  discover  her 
absence  he  would  have  no  suspicion  where  she 
had  gone,  and  he  was  not  likely  soon  to  weary  of 
his  present  companionship.  She  would  have  liked 
to  ask  John  Hines  to  go  with  her,  as  he  knew  just 
where  the  flowers  were,  but  as  she  could  not  do 
this  without  attracting  Allan's  attention,  she  de- 
cided to  go  alone. 

Roger,  wearied  out  with  his  late  frolic,  had  fal- 
len asleep  on  her  lap,  and  laying  the  child  on  a 


ICO  DOWN    RIVER. 

pile  of  shawls,  she  left  him  in  the  care  of  a  neigh- 
bor, saying  she  should  be  gone  but  a  short  time ; 
but  telling  no  one  of  her  purpose. 

She  found  the  vicinity  of  the  pier  as  deserted 
as  when  she  left  it ;  evidently  the  party  were  all  in 
the  grove.  The  barge  was  laying  off  in  the  stream, 
so  she  could  see  the  whole  deck,  and  if  there  were 
any  life  on  board  it  did  not  make  itself  visible. 

It  was  the  work  of  a  moment  to  untie  the  smaller 
of  the  two  boats  lying  at  the  pier,  step  into  it  and 
push  off.  A  few  dips  of  the  oar  brought  her  into 
deep  water,  and  presently  she  passed  the  opening 
into  the  grove,  from  whence  she  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  players. 

Since  living  in  Newbury  Jessie  had  rowed  about 
on  the  river  a  good  deal,  and  felt  entirely  at  home 
in  a  boat ;  but  she  saw  at  once  that  she  had  mis- 
calculated the  distance.  The  boys  had  claimed  to 
have  found  their  floral  treasures  in  a  cove  just 
round  the  point,  but  this  proved  to  be  a  much 
wider  strip  of  land  than  she  had  supposed.  It  oc- 
casioned her  no  uneasiness,  however,  as  it  would  not 
take  more  than  half  an  hour  at  the  longest.  But 
it  was  very  warm  on  the  water,  and  the  exercise 
of  rowing,  together  with  the  heat,  soon  fatigued 


DOWN    RIVER.  igi 

her  to  that  degree  she  was  obliged  to  lie  still  upon 
her  oars  for  a  moment's  rest,  and  in  the  interval 
she  threw  oft  the  sun-hat  which  seemed  to  inter- 
cept what  air  there  was. 

Feeling  somewhat  relieved  by  this  action,  she 
resumed  her  oars,  and  after  some  ten  minutes'  good 
pulling  reached  the  entrance  to  the  cove  ;  and 
now  began  a  vigilant  outlook  for  the  flowers  which 
were  said  to  grow  on  the  banks  along  here,  in  the 
meantime  running  no  small  risk  of  a  capsize  in 
keeping  such  close  proximity  to  the  shore. 

She  had  forgotten  to  ask  the  boys  if  they  had 
found  this  flower  immediately  at  the  river's  edge; 
and  she  had  about  made  up  her  mind  that  they 
must  have  gone  ashore,  and  that  she  had  come 
on  a  fruitless  quest,  when  she  espied  a  short  dis- 
tance away  what  might  be  one  of  these  river  beau- 
ties. 

Determined  to  know  if  this  were  the  case,  she 
made  for  the  only  rock  of  any  size  near,  drew  her 
boat  up  beside  it,  and  hastily  securing  the  painter, 
was  a  moment  later  scrambling  over  some  low 
bushes  which  intercepted  her  way. 

A  subtle  fragrance  which  she  well  remembered 
convinced  her  that  her  quest  was  ended,  and  pres- 


IQ2  DOWN    RIVER. 

ently,  nestled  among  the  beach  grass,  she  found  a 
number  of  these  lovely  fringed  flowers. 

She  had  secured  quite  a  bouquet  when  she  dis- 
covered another  river  flower  which  she  had  never 
before  seen  growing,  the  king's  finger.  The  true 
botanist's  love  for  unfamiliar  specimens  in  the 
floral  kingdom  now  tempted  her  to  a  farther  quest, 
which  was  rewarded  in  the  finding  of  one  or  two 
more  equally  rare  and  beautiful  specimens  of  river 
flora ;  then  she  suddenly  remembered  that  time 
was  fleeting,  and  she  must  return. 

Thinking  of  Allan's  surprise  when  she  should 
show  him  these  treasures,  she  started  to  regain 
her  boat.  But  where  was  it  ?  There  was  certainly 
the  stone  where  she  had  tied  it ;  yes,  and  there 
was  her  little  skiff  dancing  on  the  crest  of  a  wave 
some  twenty  feet  or  more  away. 

What  was  she  to  do  ?  Farther  up  the  cove  was 
a  large  scow  such  as  is  used  to  transport  hay. 
Would  it  be  possible  to  make  use  of  it  to  regain 
her  boat  ?  This  hope  she  was  obliged  to  abandon, 
however,  as  Reason  told  her  she  would  never  be 
able  to  manage  anything  so  unwieldy,  even  if  it 
were  sea-worthy,  which  probably  was  not  the  case, 
or  it  would  not  have  been  left  here. 


DOWN    RIVER.  193 

Jessie  now  for  the  first  time  realized  the  isolation 
of  her  surroundings,  when,  on  scanning  the  horizon, 
she  could  discern  no  living  thing.  Evidently  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  to  stay  here  till  her  friends 
came  for  her ;  but  now  she  remembered  that  she 
had  told  no  one  of  her  purpose  to  visit  the  cove. 

But  they  would  miss  the  boat,  and  must  know 
she  had  taken  it.  In  this  thought  she  was  obliged 
to  find  her  only  solace,  since  it  was  the  sole  ray 
of  hope  she  could  discover.  To  walk  back  would 
be  impossible,  since  she  could  not  penetrate  the 
dense  piece  of  woods  lying  between  her  and  the 
picnic  grounds.  But  fortunately  she  had  come  far 
up  the  cove,  and  she  might  make  her  way  round  by 
the  bank  to  the  other  side,  where  she  would  per- 
haps be  able  by  some  means  to  signal  her  friends. 
In  doing  this  she  passed  the  scow  before  men- 
tioned, and  left  it  reluctantly,  though  convinced 
that  it  could  not  aid  her  in  any  way  other  than  as 
a  more  desirable  resting-place  than  the  river-bank, 
if  she  were  obliged  to  spend  the  night  here. 

With  some  difficulty  she  followed  the  shore  till 
it  brought  her  nearly  opposite  the  head  of  the 
point  where  she  had  hoped  to  at  least  get  sight  of 
the  barge ;  but,  unfortunately,  the  land  here  was 


194  DOWN    RIVER. 

too  low  and  boggy  to  allow  of  her  keeping  on  in 
that  direction,  though  had  she  done  so  she  must 
have  walked  miles  before  she  could  have  obtained 
a  clear  view  round  the  thickly-wooded  point  which 
was  between  her  and  the  open  stream.  Thinking 
this  land  might  be  hiding  from  her  sight  those 
who  were  seeking  her,  she  called  repeatedly,  but 
no  respone  came  back  —  a  primeval  silence  seemed 
to  have  settled  upon  nature. 

Since  her  boat  was  entirely  beyond  her  reach, 
she  saw  with  satisfaction  that  it  was  drifting  far- 
ther and  farther  out  into  the  stream,  where  it  was 
likely  to  be  discovered  by  her  friends,  who  would 
at  once  understand  the  situation.  But  it  was  so 
tedious  waiting  with  the  uncertainty  as  to  what 
she  was  waiting  for  !  If  she  had  not  been  so  quiet 
about  her  intentions,  the  situation  would  not  have 
been  so  critical ;  for  when  she  did  not  return,  her 
friends  would  have  known  where  to  seek  her ;  now 
their  doing  so  would  depend  upon  accident.  The 
shadows  were  falling  more  and  more  obliquely,  but 
she  had  not  taken  her  watch  with  her  that  morn- 
ing, and  was  at  a  loss  about  the  time  ;  for  to  her 
excited  fancy  it  seemed  hours  that  she  had  trav- 
ersed the  river  bank  straining  her  eyes  to  catch 


DOWN    RIVER.  195 

sight  of  anything  coming  round  the  point.  And 
now  she  began  to  fear  she  might  have  to  spend 
the  night  here  ;  for  she  was  confident  that  the 
hour  set  to  leave  the  picnic  grounds  had  passed. 
What  could  have  kept  her  friends  from  seeking 
her? 

It  finally  seemed  useless  to  wait  longer  for  the 
help  which  did  not  come.  She  must  find  some 
other  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  The  first  thing  to 
do  was  to  learn  what  her  chances  were  in  the  op- 
posite direction,  —  if  a  human  habitation  were  near. 

A  large  tract  of  land  that  had  lately  been  burned 
over  lay  between  her  and  what  seemed  to  be  dense 
woods.  There  might  be  a  road,  however,  she  could 
not  at  this  distance  tell ;  but  at  all  events,  she  must 
leave  this  spot,  since  no  one  would  come  here  for 
her  now. 

It  seemed  to  Jessie  almost  like  a  voluntary  de- 
sertion of  her  little  cousins  to  turn  her  back  upon 
the  expanse  of  water  before  her,  and  seek  safety 
for  herself  in  the  opposite  direction.  It  was  not 
her  own  trouble  which  brought  tears  to  her  eyes 
as  she  did  so,  but  the  thought  of  them.  She  knew 
they  would  not  want  for  care  in  her  absence,  but 
how  had  they  been  comforted  in  her  loss  ? 


196  DOWN    RIVER. 

When  she  finally  turned  and  began  to  make  her 
way  over  the  rough  tract  of  country  before  her, 
she  found  her  view  of  the  water  quickly  shut  off, 
as  the  land  gradually  descended,  and  in  places  was 
so  low  and  swampy  as  to  be  almost  impassable. 

By  picking  her  stepping  places,  and  making  sud- 
den detours,  she  was  able  to  proceed,  and  after  a 
time  saw  an  opening  ahead  of  her  which  she  felt 
sure  was  a  road  through  the  woods,  since  she 
could  see  in  quite  a  little  distance.  She  deter- 
mined to  follow  it,  reasoning  that  it  must  bring 
out  somewhere,  and  it  was  her  only  alternative. 
Once  entered  on  this  wood  road  she  had  to  shut 
her  eyes  to  all  the  wild  beauty  about  her ;  for  the 
mosses  and  lichens  which  lined  her  path  would  at 
•  another  time  have  held  her  in  complete  thrall ;  but 
now  she  had  not  a  moment  to  lose,  as  she  did  not 
know  how  long  this  road  might  be,  or  that  dark- 
ness might  not  overtake  her  ere  she  reached  the 
open  country  again. 

To  her  joy,  some  fifteen  minutes  later  this  lay 
before  her :  the  woods  were  passed,  and  off  to 
the  right  were  hay-fields  where  she  was  presently 
sure  men  were  at  work.  On  coming  nearer,  she 
saw  they  were  loading  a  large  ox-team  with  the 


DOWN    RIVER.  197 

fragrant  new-made  hay  with  -which  the  air  was 
richly  scented. 

Jessie  now  suddenly  realized  her  fatigue.  She 
must  sit  down  for  a  moment,  if  only  to  get  strength 
to  tell  her  story  ;  for  she  would  be  obliged  to  ap- 
peal to  these  laborers,  since  she  could  walk  no 
further,  and  no  house  where  she  could  seek  shelter 
was  visible. 

She  resolved  first  to  find  out  what  her  chances 
were  of  getting  home  that  night.  If  there  were  a 
horse  in  the  neighborhood  she  would  at  any  price 
secure  it.  She  had  only  time  to  formulate  this 
plan,  when,  looking  up,  she  saw  one  of  the  hay- 
makers coming  toward  her ;  and  then  she  found 
herself  shrinking  from  the  necessity  of  asking  aid 
of  these  men. 

In  another  moment  this  one  would  be  near 
enough  for  her  to  speak,  and  she  would  do  so,  she 
resolved ;  but  when  she  raised  her  eyes  again  an 
exclamation  of  astonishment  escaped  her,  for  it 
was  no  stranger  approaching,  but  the  last  man  in 
the  world  she  would  have  thought  to  see  here  — 
it  was  Milton  Carrol. 

"  Why,  Miss  Jessie  !  what  has  happened  ?  You 
are  in  trouble  ?  "  was  his  hurried  salutation. 


198  DOWN    RIVER. 

Surprise  nearly  deprived  Jessie  of  the  power  of 
speech,  but  involuntarily  she  extended  both  hands 
to  him. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  she  cried,  with 
dewy  eyes ;  and  then  between  smiles  and  tears,  she 
told  him  what  had  happened. 

"  And  you  have  walked  all  the  way  from  the 
cove  here  ?  A  good  three  miles  !  and  over  such  a 
rough  road,  too.  Why,  you  must  be  completely 
tired  out."  There  was  in  Mr.  Carrol's  eyes  as  he 
spoke  a  caressing,  expressing  expression  which  for 
the  moment  made  them  very  kind. 

"  I  was  not  fortunate  enough  to  find  the  road 
till  just  before  I  reached  the  woods,"  Jessie  re- 
turned, "but  I  am  not  so  very  tired,  — that  is,  not 
so  tired  as  I  was  ten  minutes  ago,"  smiling. 

In  her  surprise  at  meeting  him,  Jessie  forgot  to 
ask  how  he  happened  to  be  here.  It  seemed  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  she  should 
have  found  him  in  her  trouble.  But  he  presently 
explained  that  he  had  been  down  here  two  days 
cutting  the  hay  from  a  piece  of  grass  land  which 
belonged  to  him,  and  that  he  was  intending  to  go 
up  river  that  night  with  a  scow-load. 

"  So  you  see  nothing  could  have  happened  more 


DOWN    RIVER.  199 

opportunely.  I  can  take  you  right  home,  that  is, 
if  you  will  go  up  with  me  on  the  hay.  It  will  be 
much  less  fatiguing  than  by  carriage  ;  though  if 
you  prefer  it,  I  can  easily  send  you  by  team,"  he 
added. 

Jessie  would  not  hear  to  such  an  arrangement. 
She  would  much  prefer  to  go  with  him  in  the 
scow,  she  said  frankly. 

"Then  it  must  have  been  your  scow  I  saw  in 
the  cove.  If  it  had  not  been  altogether  too  un- 
wieldy I  should  have  tried  to  reach  my  boat  by  its 
means."  Jessie  spoke  with  her  usual  sprightliness, 
though  making  an  effort  to  do  so. 

When  she  declared  her  preference  for  going 
\vith  him  on  the  hay,  a  light  had  come  into  Milton 
Carrol's  eyes  which  suddenly  died  out  again.  In 
that  brief  moment  he  had  taken  counsel  of  his 
thoughts,  and  springing  up  from  his  seat  beside 
her,  he  said  gravely,  — 

"  I  am  sorry  I  have  no  better  conveyance  to 
offer  you  than  my  ox-team,  as  I  fear  your  ride  to 
the  cove  will  hardly  be  a  comfortable  one ;  but  I 
will  come  for  you  when  we  are  ready  to  start." 

Ever  since  her  return  to  Newbury  Jessie  had 
marked  a  change  in  Mr.  Carrol's  manner  to  her  ; 


20O  DOWN    RIVER. 

and  his  grave  courtesy  now  was  a  fair  sample  of  the 
attitude  he  had  taken  toward  her,  and  which  she 
had  found  herself  unable  to  understand.  Concern 
for  her  welfare  had  in  the  first  instant  surprised 
from  him  the  old  hearty  friendliness  ;  and  Jessie 
at  once  noted  the  change  and  felt  pained  by  it. 

She  was  glad  to  avail  herself  of  the  rest  which 
the  interval  before  starting  gave  her,  for  she  was 
feeling  her  fatigue  more  and  more.  While  wait- 
ing now  for  Mr.  Carrol's  return,  she  recalled  hear- 
ing that  he  had  bought  a  tract  of  grass  land  down 
river  ;  though  when  told  that  morning  that  he  was 
away  getting  his  hay,  it  had  not  occurred  to  her 
that  he  would  be  anywhere  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
picnic  ground. 

When  Mr.  Carrol  came  for  her,  some  few  mo- 
ments later,  he  had  in  his  hand  one  of  those  broad- 
brimmed  hats  which  hay-makers  often  wear  to 
shield  their  necks  from  the  blistering  rays  of  the 
sun. 

"This  is  the  best  I  can  do  for  you,  Miss  Jessie," 
he  said,  after  having  carefully  lined  the  crown 
with  his  pocket  handkerchief.  Twelve  months 
before  Milton  Carrol  would  have  insisted  upon 
tying  it  on,  but  now  he  did  not  offer  to  do  so — 


DOWN    RIVER.  2O I 

the  fact  was,  he  felt  himself  unequal  to  the  ordeal 
of  having  those  questioning  eyes  any  nearer  his 
face. 

Jessie  removed  the  turban  which  she  had  im- 
provised from  her  handkerchief  while  waiting,  and 
accepted  with  thanks  the  head  covering  Mr.  Carrol 
had  brought  her. 

"  Why,  this  is  hat  and  umbrella  all  in  one,"  she 
said  gayly,  but  a  moment  later  finding  it  impossi- 
ble to  look  out  from  the  broad,  flapping  brim,  she 
pinned  this  back  to  keep  it  out  of  her  eyes,  ad- 
ding with  charming  piquancy,  "  You  should  have 
brought  me  a  rake,  that  my  outfit  might  be  com- 
plete." 

"  I  did  not  think  of  that ;  but  if  you  wish  for 
one  you  can  be  supplied.  It  would  add  to  the 
picturesqueness  of  the  costume."  Milton  Carrol 
would  have  been  other  than  a  man  had  he  not 
been  moved  by  the  sweet  arch  face  which  looked 
out  from  the  hat  to  which  Jessie  had  contrived 
to  give  an  air  and  grace  which  had  not  seemed 
among  its  possibilities. 

"  Why,  this  must  be  enchanted  ground  if  I  have 
only  to  wish  for  a  thing  to  have  it.  I  wonder  if  it 
would  do  any  good  to  wish  for  a  coach-and-four." 


2O2  DOWN    RIVER. 

There  was  in  Jessie's  manner  as  she  spoke  an  un- 
conscious conciliatory  grace  which  he  found  hard 
to  resist,  and  which  tempted  him  to  lay  aside  the 
sternness  of  manner  to  which  he  had  schooled 
himself.  But,  loving  her  as  he  did,  he  felt  that  she 
must  be  all  to  him  or  nothing,  and  since  Fate  had 
decreed  it  should  be  the  latter,  he  had  decided 
that  the  sooner  they  returned  to  polite  conven- 
tionality in  their  intercourse,  the  better  it  would 
be  for  himself,  at  least. 

The  three  men  whom  he  had  hired  to  help  him 
get  this  hay,  and  boat  it  up  river,  were  already  on 
the  fore  part  of  the  load  when  he  helped  Jessie  to 
a  seat  which  had  been  prepared  for  her  in  the  rear. 

"  Did  you  ever  ride  on  a  load  of  hay  before  ? " 
he  asked,  springing  to  a  seat  beside  her  when  all 
was  ready  for  their  start. 

"  O,  yes  !  at  Newbury  Hill  I  used  often  to  ride 
on  the  hay.  That  was  one  of  the  things  I  always 
counted  on  doing  when  I  went  there,"  Jessie  said, 
and  then  was  silent,  for  she  had  remembered  the 
sad  message  which  had  that  morning  come  from 
the  farm  where  she  had  spent  so  many  happy 
days. 

Mr.  Carrol  had  not  heard  of  Aunt  Judith's  ill- 


DOWN    RIVER.  2O3 

ness,  and  Jessie  now  told  him.  While  they  were 
talking  of  the  good  woman  whose  death  would  be 
a  great  loss  to  the  town,  since  everybody  loved 
her,  the  driver  was  putting  his  oxen  along  as  fast 
as  was  possible  over  a  road  that  was  at  best  but  a 
cart-path. 

Conversation  under  such  circumstances  had  its 
disadvantages ;  and  Jessie  and  her  companion  soon 
lapsed  into  a  silence  which  was  unbroken  for  the 
remainder  of  the  way  to  the  cove.  On  reaching 
the  scow  the  hay  was  quickly  transferred  to  it, 
and  one  of  the  men  started  back  with  the  cart, 
while  the  other  two  remained  to  boat  the  hay  up 
river. 

"You  are  not  taking  a  full  load,"  Jessie  said,  as 
they  pushed  off,  "at  least  not  of  hay,"  she  added 
with  a  troubled  look. 

"  No,  not  quite  ;  but  my  passenger  is  most  wel- 
come for  all  that,"  Mr.  Carrol  returned,  his  features 
relaxing  into  a  smile.  But  meeting  the  wistful 
expression  of  a  pair  of  brown  eyes,  he  added,  with 
kindly  earnestness,  —  "  The  hay  can  come  up  river 
any  time.  Do  not  give  yourself  a  moment's  un- 
easiness about  that.  I  only  hope  you  will  not  find 
the  sail  too  wearisome ;  but  you  will  be  more  com- 


2O4  DOWN    RIVER. 

fortable  to  lie  down.  I  have  had  many  a  good  nap 
going  up  river  on  my  hay." 

"  Thank  you  !  I  shall  get  along  very  well  as  I 
am.  I  could  not  sleep  if  I  were  to  lie  down,"  was 
Jessie's  reply ;  but  she  had  no  sooner  spoken  than 
she  was  conscious  of  her  cramped  and  aching 
limbs. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  shall  not  get  along  very  fast, 
for  the  wind  is  dead  against  us,"  Mr.  Carrol  said  a 
few  moments  after  they  started,  at  the  same  time 
anxiously  scanning  the  horizon. 

Jessie  made  no  response,  for  she  had  not  heard 
this  remark.  She  was  asking  herself  now  whether 
it  would  not  have  been  better  for  her  to  have  taken 
other  means  of  reaching  home,  rather  than  to  have 
put  Mr.  Carrol  to  the  trouble  of  going  up  with 
half  a  load,  as  he  was  doing  on  her  account.  This 
would  have  given  her  less  concern  had  she  felt 
sure  that  he  regarded  her  with  his  former  kindli- 
ness ;  but  his  coldness  and  reserve  of  late  troubled 
her,  and  to-day  it  had  been  more  marked  than  on 
any  previous  occasion. 

As  they  passed  the  deserted  picnic  ground  Jes- 
sie had  a  realizing  sense  of  the  anxiety  and  trou- 
ble which  her  disappearance  must  have  cost  her 


DOWN    RIVER.  2O5 

friends.  Probably  they  had  gone  home  believing 
her  drowned,  as  they  must  have  found  her  boat 
out  in  the  river.  She  imagined  the  distress  which 
this  would  cause  Allan,  who  would  remember  his 
fit  of  naughtiness  that  afternoon,  and  be  heart- 
broken. She  was  not  conscious  of  the  sigh  which 
escaped  her  at  this  point,  but  Milton  Carrol  noted 
it,  and  also  the  pained  expression  of  her  face,  and 
he  would  have  given  much  to  have  known  just 
what  was  troubling  her.  It  could  hardly  be  that 
she  was  still  worrying  about  having  been  separated 
from  her  party,  since  no  harm  had  come  of  it. 
Had  what  he  said  about  the  wind  being  against 
them  made  her  fear  that  they  would  not  be  home 
before  morning  ?  Was  it  the  hope  of  reaching 
Newbury  under  the  cover  of  darkness  which  had 
made  her  catch  so  eagerly  at  this  mode  of  convey- 
ance ?  He  remembered  on  a  former  occasion  how 
sensitive  she  had  been  to  having  any  publicity 
given  to  a  misadventure.  Was  it  the  same  feeling 
which  had  prompted  her  to  go  home  in  this  way  ? 
Did  she  see  now  that  she  had  made  a  mistake  in 
electing  to  go  in  his  company,  since  it  was  likely 
to  be  known  in  the  town  that  he  had  brought  her 
home  ? 


2O6  DOWN    RIVER. 

Mr.  Carrol's  resolve  was  instantly  taken.  He 
would  reach  Newbury  before  daylight.  If  he 
found  it  impossible  to  do  so  by  water  he  would 
land  at  Barstead,  ten  miles  above,  where  was  kept 
a  famous  trotter.  With  that  horse  he  knew  he 
could  get  her  to  her  uncle's  house  before  any  one 
in  the  town  would  be  stirring.  By  so  doing  no- 
body need  know,  unless  she  herself  chose  to  speak 
of  it,  that  £'he  had  come  in  his  company.  He 
would  at  any  rate  save  her  from  the  odium  of  hav- 
ing her  name  associated  with  his  own  ;  for  that 
others  regarded  him  in  the  same  light  that  Miss 
Norberry  did,  he  no  longer  had  any  doubt. 

The  fact  of  his  mad  blood  and  dishonored  name 
which  she  had  flung  in  his  face,  had  come,  in  his 
own  estimation,  to  be  an  insuperable  barrier  to  his 
marriage  with  this  girl.  There  had  been  a  fierce 
conflict  in  his  heart  between  love  and  pride,  but  it 
had  ended  in  a  vow  not  to  interfere  with  Jessie 
Norberry's  future.  Whatever  it  might  know  of 
disappointment  or  sorrow,  or  unrealized  possibili- 
ties, he  would  be  in  no  way  responsible. 

Rousing  from  her  painful  reverie,  Jessie  per- 
ceived that  Mr.  Carrol  was  exerting  all  his  strength 
at  one  of  the  oars. 


DOWN    RIVER.  2O7 

"  Why  do  you  do  that  ? "  she  asked,  laying  her 
hand  upon  his  arm  to  deter  him  from  what  she 
felt  was  a  waste  of  strength. 

He  looked  up  and  smiled.  "We  have  a  long 
distance  to  go  yet,"  he  replied,  without  relaxing 
his  efforts  at  the  oar. 

Jessie  said  no  more,  but  sank  again  into  another 
reverie.  Meanwhile  Nature's  grand  panorama  of 
dark  green  foliage  outlined  against  the  evening 
sky,  wherein  was  blended  the  softest  azure  tints, 
with  the  gold  and  purple  of  a  brilliant  sunset,  was 
entirely  disregarded  by  her. 

After  a  time  she  was  conscious  enough  of  her 
surroundings  to  be  aware  that  a  whispered  confer- 
ence was  taking  place  between  Mr.  Carrol  and  his 
two  assistants,  and  presently  that  they  were  going 
through  the  water  at  greater  speed.  But  she  did 
not  associate  cause  and  effect  in  this  case ;  nor  did 
it  occur  to  her  that  something  had  given  renewed 
strength  to  those  brawny  arms  which  no  longer 
plied  their  oars  with  the  slow,  mechanical  motion 
that  had  previously  marked  their  rowing. 

The  picturesque  river-banks  winding  in  and  out 
in  their  myriad  curves  and  projections,  here  a 
wooded  dell  whose  graceful  slope  met  the  river's 


2O8  DOWN    RIVER. 

flow,  there  a  patch  of  meadow  land,  resplendent  in 
tints  borrowed  from  the  evening  sky,  and  anon  a 
stretch  of  rocky  shore,  wild  and  beautiful  in  its 
varied  verdure,  these  would  at  another  time  have 
appealed  deeply  to  her  sense  of  the  artistic,  but 
were  now  unnoticed  by  the  girl,  who,  wrapped  in 
troubled  thought,  was  unconscious  of  the  picture 
which  Nature  spread  out  before  her. 

As  night  settled  down,  sheer  weariness  com- 
pelled Jessie  to  resort  to  the  couch  which  Mr. 
Carrol  prepared  for  her,  by  spreading  a  piece  of 
sail-cloth  over  the  hay.  Here,  covered  with  the 
blanket  which  he  had  brought  for  his  own  use,  she 
could  rest  her  weary  limbs,  a  privilege  of  which 
she  was  glad  to  avail  herself.  Sleep,  however,  was 
out  of  the  question  in  her  present  disturbed  state 
of  mind,  and  she  found  herself  going  over  and 
over  again  her  trying  experience  of  the  day.  Some 
one  to  whom  she  could  have  talked,  or  who  would 
have  talked  to  her,  would  have  seemed  to  her  a 
godsend  —  anything  which  would  have  put  an  end 
to  this  weary  thinking ;  but  Mr.  Carrol  had 
wrapped  himself,  as  it  were,  in  a  mantle  of  silence, 
and  she  found  herself  lacking  the  courage  to  dis- 
turb him. 


DOWN    RIVER.  2O9 

After  a  time  she  had  fallen  to  watching  the 
grave,  stern  face  which  did  not  relax  a  muscle. 
What  had  produced  such  a  transformation  in  the 
man  who  only  a  twelvemonth  before  had  been  one 
of  the  most  entertaining  and  pleasant  of  com- 
panions ?  Was  it  anxiety  about  his  father  that  had 
changed  the  genial,  kindly  nature  into  the  reserved, 
morose  one  ?  Though  Jessie  knew  that  his  fath- 
er's condition  was  precarious,  she  felt  that  this 
did  not  furnish  an  explanation. 

It  was  as  if  something  had  come  between  them, 
something  which  had  made  him  distrust  or  dis- 
approve of  her ;  though  she  knew  of  nothing  that 
was  likely  to  do  so ;  for  she  little  suspected  her 
Aunt  Helen  of  having  interfered  between  them. 
Though  he  had  been  kind  and  solicitous  for  her 
comfort,  she  felt  this  was  not  done  with  the  old 
heartiness.  What  could  have  wrought  this  change 
in  him  ?  She  would  have  liked  to  ask  him,  for 
that  there  was  some  reason  for  this  difference  in 
his  manner  to  her,  she  felt  sure.  But  since  she 
could  not  do  this,  it  only  disturbed  her  the  more  to 
dwell  upon  it.  Possibly  she  "had  been  mistaken, 
she  told  herself ;  he  might  have  some  trouble  of 
which  she  was  not  cognizant.  But  if  he  were  the 


2IO  DOWN    RIVER. 

man  she  had  taken  him  to  be,  no  ordinary  trial 
would  have  made  him  thus  hard  ;  and  Jessie  did 
not  believe  she  had  been  deceived  in  him.  She 
would  be  patient  and  wait.  What  she  did  not 
understand  now,  would  sometime  be  explained. 
But  meanwhile  she  would  have  been  glad  to  make 
some  inquiries  about  his  father,  whom  she  had  not 
seen  since  her  return  to  Newbury. 

The  stern  face,  forbidding,  almost,  in  its  present 
aspect,  did  not,  however,  invite  her  confidence ; 
and  the  opportunity  for  an  explanation  which  might 
have  brought  these  two  hearts  together,  passed, 
and  left  them  to  further  misunderstandings  and 
estrangement. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

MISS  NORBERRY'S  REPENTANCE. 

THE  afternoon  had  nearly  waned  before  Jes- 
sie was  missed  ;  but  even  then  her  absence 
did  not  occasion  alarm,  for  her  friends  supposed 
she  had  gone  into  the  woods,  as  she  was  known 
to  be  a  dear  lover  of  nature,  and  to  delight  in  her 
solitudes. 

But  when  the  hour  set  for  leaving  the  grove 
came,  and  she  did  not  return,  some  concern  was 
felt,  and  parties  at  once  started  out  in  different 
directions  to  look  for  her. 

Then  the  boat  was  missed,  and  presently  dis- 
covered out  in  the  stream.  No  one  had  seen  Jes- 
sie take  it ;  but  the  boys  who  had  used  it  early  in 
the  afternoon  were  confident  that  they  had  left  it 
secure. 

When  those  who  had  been  looking  for  her  in 
the  woods  returned,  the  opinion  began  to  gain 
ground  that  she  must  have  gone  out  in  the  boat ; 
a  few  minutes  later  this  was  captured,  and  the 

211 


212       MISS  NORBERRY  S  REPENTANCE. 

missing  girl's  hat  found  in  it.  This  seemed  to  be 
positive  proof  of  her  late  presence,  but  where  was 
she  now  ? 

She  would  naturally  be  somewhere  near  the 
shore,  it  was  thought,  if  the  boat  had  got  away 
from  her  in  landing  ;  but  when  no  response  came 
to  the  loud  and  repeated  calls  of  her  friends,  this 
hope  was  abandoned. 

At  first  no  one  thought  of  the  cove,  as  it  was 
not  supposed  the  boat  had  floated  so  far;  but 
finally  this  spot  was  explored,  though  too  late  to 
find  any  trace  of  her  there ;  and  now  it  was  feared 
that  something  serious  had  befallen  her. 

It  was  with  sad  hearts  that  the  party  finally 
turned  homeward  after  a  thorough  exploration  of 
the  whole  neighborhood.  But  still  they  were  not 
entirely  without  hope  that  their  missing  compan- 
ion had  in  some  fortuitous  way  escaped  the  fate 
they  feared  for  her.  These  dark  forebodings  were 
kept  from  Allan  and  Roger,  who  supposed  their 
cousin  had  gone  home  some  other  way,  since  she 
could  not  be  found  ;  and  their  friends  encouraged 
this  belief,  thinking  it  kinder  to  do  so,  than  to 
share  their  fears  with  them. 

But  when  the  children  reached  home,  and  learned 


MISS  NORBERRY  S  REPENTANCE.       213 

that  Jessie  was  not  there,  and  that  no  one  knew 
where  she  was,  and  that  it  was  even  feared  she 
had  been  drowned,  their  cries,  coupled  with  Miss 
Norberry's  angry  denunciations  of  those  who  had 
suffered  her  niece  to  meet  such  a  fate,  for  a  time 
turned  the  parsonage  into  a  semblance  of  pande- 
monium. 

No  one  who  saw  Helen  Norberry  when  this 
news  was  brought  her,  would  ever  forget  her  grief 
and  rage. 

How  dared  they  come  to  her  with  such  a  story  ! 
Why  had  they  come  away  at  all  and  left  her  niece's 
fate  uncertain  ?  "  No  one  but  poltroons  and  cow- 
ards would  have  so  deserted  a  comrade,"  were 
among  her  angry  utterances. 

Those  who  would  have  sympathized  with  her, 
found  their  attempts  scorned,  and  were  made  to 
feel  that  their  presence  in  the  house  was  unwel- 
come. For,  after  giving  vent  to  a  tirade  of  injus- 
tice in  which  all  the  party  were  included,  she  shut 
herself  into  her  brother's  study  to  bear  alone  the 
blow  under  which  her  reason  almost  staggered. 

If  Milton  Carrol  had  been  at  home  she  would 
have  sent  for  him.  She  remembered  with  remorse 
how  glad  she  had  been  only  that  morning  to  find 


214      MISS  NORBERRY  S  REPENTANCE. 

he  was  not  in  the  party.  Ah !  if  he  only  had  been, 
this  would  not  have  happened.  The  cruel  waters 
could  not  have  taken  her  from  him  ;  for  if  he  had 
found  it  impossible  to  save  her,  he  too  would  have 
gone  down.  Miss  Norberry  fully  believed  this,  so 
entirely  did  she  believe  in  Milton  Carrol's  love  for 
her  niece. 

"Jessie  drowned,  — dead  !  oh  !  it  cannot  be,"  she 
moaned,  as  with  a  nervous  shudder  she  covered 
her  face  to  shut  out  the  terrible  picture  which 
thought  presented  of  that  fair  young  form  floating 
among  the  reeds  of  the  river. 

Milton  Carrol  would  have  been  amply  avenged 
had  he  known  how,  in  her  trouble,  Miss  Norber- 
ry's  thoughts  turned  to  him  for  help,  and  how,  dur- 
ing all  the  terrible  hours  of  that  night-vigil,  she 
lamented  the  pride  and  hardness  of  heart  with 
which  she  had  striven  to  shape  her  niece's  future. 

The  minister  and  his  wife  were  summoned  from 
Aunt  Judith's  bedside,  and  reached  home  just 
after  midnight,  having  left  their  poor  friend  still 
living,  but  unconscious  of  the  going  and  coming 
of  those  about  her. 

Though  overwhelmed  at  first  by  the  news  which 
had  been  brought  them,  they  did  not  upon  reach- 


MISS  NORBERRY  S  REPENTANCE.       21 5 

ing  home,  and  learning  the  full  particulars,  feel 
like  taking  quite  so  despondent  a  view  of  Jessie's 
fate  as  had  her  companions.  To  them  it  appeared 
impossible  that  she  could  have  been  drowned  in 
smooth  water  at  midday,  and  within  sight  and 
hearing  of  her  friends.  For  the  fact  that  her  boat 
had  been  found  near  the  picnic  grounds,  presup- 
posed her  not  to  have  gone  far ;  though  the  mys- 
tery of  her  non-appearance  anywhere  on  the  shore 
was  inexplicable.  It  seemed  more  probable  that 
she  had  gone  ashore  and  been  overcome  by  the 
heat,  perhaps  fainted,  and  not  returned  to  con- 
sciousness in  time  to  make  her  whereabouts  known 
to  her  friends.  Or  she  might  have  fallen  and  been 
injured,  sprained  her  ankle,  or  in  some  other  way 
been  disabled.  That  some  of  the  party  had  not 
been  left  to  continue  the  search  through  the  night, 
seemed  to  the  minister  and  his  wife  a  great  over- 
sight. 

On  reaching  home  Mr.  Norberry  began  making 

arrangements  for  a  more  thorough  search,  and  in  a 

• 

short  time  found  a  dozen  or  twenty  men  ready  to 
start  with  him  in  the  morning ;  for  it  was  thought 
best  to  wait  till  daylight,  as  something  might  be 
heard  from  the  missing  one  in  the  meantime. 


216  MISS  NORBERRY'S  REPENTANCE. 

Mrs.  Norberry  had  succeeded  after  a  time  in 
quieting  her  excited  children,  and  inspiring  them 
with  her  own  hope  that  Jessie  would  yet  be  found 
all  right,  and  they  had  finally  fallen  asleep  assuring 
each  other  that  cousin  Jess  would  come  home  in 
the  morning,  for  papa  would  be  sure  to  find  her 
and  bring  her. 

Notwithstanding  that  the  day  had  been  a  fatigu- 
ing one  to  many,  there  was  little  sleeping  done 
that  night  in  Newbury  while  Jessie  Norberry's 
fate  was  still  uncertain  ;  and  when,  just  before 
dawn,  a  carriage  was  driven  down  the  main  street 
at  a  very  unusual  rate  of  speed,  the  sound  was 
followed  by  more  than  one  anxious  watcher,  who 
by  some  strange  sense  of  prescience  knew  that  it 
would  stop  at  the  minister's  door. 

Alone  with  her  grief  and  repentance,  Miss  Nor- 
berry had  also  heard  this  carriage,  but  it  bore  no 
significance  to  her  overwrought  nerves ;  and  a  mo- 
ment later,  when  the  library  door  opened,  and  her 
niece  entered  the  room,  she  raised  a  blanched  and 

•^ 

grief-stricken  face,  in  which  was  no  recognition  of 
the  truth. 

Guided  by  the  light  in  her  uncle's  study,  Jessie 
had  gone  directly  there  on  reaching  home ;  and 


MISS  NORBERRY  S  REPENTANCE.       2I/ 

comprehending  at  a  glance  what  the  night  had 
been  to  her  aunt,  in  which  she  had  mourned  her 
dead,  the  girl  went  over  to  her,  and  putting  both 
arms  about  her  neck,  nestled  into  her  lap  as  she 
had  done  when  a  child,  sorry  for  any  wrong-doing. 
Neither  spoke  for  several  moments,  but  Jessie  felt 
herself  folded  in  such  an  embrace  as  this  relative 
had  not  given  her  for  years. 

Mrs.  Norberry  had  heard  that  carriage  stop  at 
her  door,  and  as  soon  as  she  could  release  herself 
from  the  arms  of  her  sleeping  children,  she  had 
come  to  the  study,  whither  the  sound  of  voices 
attracted  her. 

"  Thank  God,  my  child,  that  you  are  not  lying 
helpless  and  deserted  in  those  lonely  woods,"  she 
said,  folding  to  her  heart  the  girl  who  was  as  dear 
to  her  as  her  own  children. 

While  Jessie  was  telling  her  story  the  door  again 
opened,  and  her  uncle  came  in  ;  and  then  more 
tears  were  shed,  and  thanks  offered  for  her  safe 
return. 

"  I  thought  to  surprise  and  please  the  children 
with  a  few  flowers,  and  instead  I  have  given  you 
all  so  much  trouble,"  Jessie  said,  in  concluding  her 
story. 


218  MISS  NORBERRY'S  REPENTANCE. 

"  Let  us  return  thanks  to  Almighty  God,"  was 
her  uncle's  response.  A  few  moments  later  the 
first  rays  of  the  morning  sun  shone  upon  the  little 
group  kneeling  in  the  pastor's  study,  who  with 
hearts  full  of  gratitude  for  their  unbroken  circle, 
remembered  her  upon  whom  the  day  of  a  brighter 
world  had  dawned.  For  Aunt  Judith  had  breathed 
her  last  half  an  hour  after  the  minister  and  his 
wife  had  left  her  bedside. 

Before  going  to  her  room  Jessie  had  stolen  to 
the  nursery,  where  her  light  kiss  upon  her  cousin 
Allan's  brow  had  at  once  aroused  him. 

"  I  knew  papa  would  find  you  and  bring  you 
home  ;  I  told  Rog  so.  They  said  you  was  drowned, 
and  I  cried  awful,  and  so  did  Rog  too.  Aunt 
Helen  said  we  might.  '  Poor  children  !  they  may 
cry  ;  their  hearts  are  not  stone/  Aunt  Helen  said. 
I  tell  you,  she  was  dreadful  mad  with  them  for  let- 
ting you  get  drowned.  Didn't  she  give  it  to  them 
awful  cause  they  left  you  ?  You  orter  heard  her, 
Jess  ;  she  thinks  a  heap  of  you."  The  boy's  soft 
eyes  had  filled  with  tears  while  speaking,  and  now, 
burying  his  head  in  his  cousin's  lap,  he  sobbed, 
"We  all  think  a  heap  of  you,  and  I'm  sorry  I  was 
so  bad  yesterday." 


MISS  NORBERRY  S  REPENTANCE.       2IQ 

"  Never  mind  now,  dear ;  that's  all  passed,"  re- 
turned Jessie,  raising  the  tearful  face  to  impress 
upon  it  the  seal  of  forgiveness  in  a  loving  kiss. 
By  this  time  Roger  had  woke,  and  for  the  next 
few  minutes  Jessie  had  all  that  she  could  do  to 
divide  herself  between  the  two. 

"  Is  your  foot  broke  ? "  the  latter  presently  asked, 
remembering  that  some  such  calamity  had  been 
suggested  as  happening  to  his  cousin. 

"  No,  darling,  my  foot  is  all  right ;  nothing  hap- 
pened to  me  only  that  I  lost  my  boat,  and  so  could 
not  come  back  to  go  home  with  you,"  was  Jessie's 
reply,  and  then  she  answered  all  their  questions 
as  to  where  she  went  and  how  she  had  come  home. 

"Oh!  I  thought  papa  brought  you  home,"  Allan 
said,  not  a  little  disappointed  to  find  that  this  deed 
of  valor  had  been  performed  out  of  the  family. 
Then,  quick  to  accord  justice  where  it  was  due,  he 
cried,  "  Three  cheers  for  Mr.  Carrol,  the  best  man 
in  the  world  next  to  papa,"  and  while  the  nursery 
was  echoing  to  the  round  of  cheers  which  he  had 
proposed,  Jessie  escaped  to  her  room. 
.  "  You  should  not  have  told  Allan  that  Mr.  Car- 
rol brought  you  home  last  night,"  Miss  Norberry 
said  to  her  niece  a  few  hours  later.  "  Now  it  will 


22O      MISS  NORBERRY  S  REPENTANCE. 

be  all  over  town,  for  that  child  is  perfectly  ridicu- 
lous in  the  way  he  goes  on  about  it.  One  would 
think,  to  hear  him  talk,  that  your  rescue  was  a  deed 
of  prowess  and  valor  which  had  covered  Mr.  Carrol 
with  glory.  Allan's  head  is  full  of  the  old  tales 
of  chivalry  he  has  been  reading  lately,  and  which 
he  has  mixed  all  up  with  this  affair."  Before 
twenty-four  hours  had  elapsed  Miss  Norberry 
would  have  been  glad  to  forget  that  Jessie  owed 
her  rescue  to  Milton  Carrol.  No  sooner  did  she 
know  her  niece  to  be  alive  and  safe  than  her  heart 
hardened  to  the  man  who  had  laid  this  obligation 
upon  her. 

Jessie  did  not  reply,  for  she  knew  it  would  be 
idle  to  argue  the  matter  with  her  aunt.  But  had 
her  cousin  Allan  been  near  at  the  moment,  he 
would  have  received  the  caress  which  she  gave 
him  in  her  heart  as  she  resolved  that  his  new- 
found hero  should  lose  nothing  of  his  prestige 
through  her. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

JESSIE'S  DILEMMA. 

WHILE  you  are  resting  this  afternoon,  Aunt 
Helen,  I  will  make  some  calls ;  for  if  we 
go  home  to-morrow  this  will  be  my  last  oppor- 
tunity." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  feel  the  need  of  rest 
yourself.  You  will  be  all  used  up  by  evening,  and 
not  fit  to  see  any  one."  There  was  a  note  of  an- 
noyance in  Miss  Norberry's  voice,  which  did  not 
escape  her  niece. 

"  No  one  knows  we  are  in  town,  so  we  are  not 
likely  to  have  visitors,"  was  Jessie's  reply. 

Miss  Norberry  did  not  inform  her  niece  that  she 
had  written  Doctor  Forney  they  would  be  in  Bos- 
ton a  few  days  for  their  Christmas  shopping,  and 
where  he  might  find  them.  For  some  reason,  she 
thought  it  best  to  say  nothing  about  this  to  Jessie. 
The  glance  which  her  niece  had  given  her  a  mo- 
ment since  made  her  a  little  uneasy,  and  she  found 
herself  hoping  that  the  doctor  would  say  nothing 


222  JESSIE  S   DILEMMA. 

of  her  letter,  but  would  leave  Jessie  to  suppose  he 
had  learned  of  her  presence  in  the  city  by  accident. 

In  fact,  this  expected  call  from  the  doctor  was 
the  real  reason  of  Miss  Norberry's  deciding  to 
remain  in  this  afternoon,  though  she  had  pleaded 
fatigue  as  her  motive  ;  so  she  was  quite  annoyed 
on  learning  Jessie's  intention  to  use  the  time  in 
making  calls. 

"  If  you  have  set  your  heart  on  it,  I  suppose  you 
must  go,  but  pray  remember  that  I  am  alone,  and 
do  not  extend  your  visits  to  visitations,"  was  her 
ungracious  rejoinder. 

Dropping  in  to  her  Aunt  Wilson's  while  out, 
Jessie  found  awaiting  her  there  a  letter  from  home. 
It  was  from  her  Aunt  Kitty,  and  written  the  pre- 
vious evening. 

"Why!  Doctor  Carrol  is  dead,"  Jessie  exclaimed, 
and  then  read  aloud  what  followed  this  announce- 
ment. "  He  had  another  shock  last  night,  and 
this  morning  he  dropped  away  without  any  appar- 
ent suffering.  His  poor  wife  is  completely  pros- 
trated by  the  blow."  Here  the  letter  dropped 
from  the  girl's  nerveless  fingers ;  stooping,  she 
picked  it  up  mechanically,  and  presently  excusing 
herself  to  her  aunt,  left  the  house. 


JESSIE  S    DILEMMA.  223 

She  had  intended  making  another  call,  but  this 
was  now  forgotten,  and  so  absorbed  was  she  in  the 
intelligence  just  received,  that  she  hardly  noticed 
whither  her  steps  were  tending  until  she  had 
reached  the  hotel.  Here  she  found  her  aunt  and 
Doctor  Forney  deep  in  the  discussion  of  a  popular 
book. 

Jessie  had  been  schooling  herself  to  meet  her 
relative  with  an  announcement  which  Doctor  Car- 
rol's death  seemed  to  make  necessary;  for  she  had 
resolved  to  immediately  carry  out  the  promise  she 
had  made  him,  but  she  had  not  been  prepared  to 
find  a  visitor  on  her  return. 

That  Jessie  was  disturbed,  her  aunt  saw  at  once, 
and  she  fancied  herself  suspected  of  finessing  to 
bring  about  this  visit,  proving  true  the  old  adage, 
that  a  guilty  conscience  needs  no  accuser. 

"  Why,  child,  what  has  brought  you  home  with 
such  a  long  face  ? "  she  asked  lightly,  thinking  to 
give  Jessie  a  hint  of  her  displeasure  at  this  fit  of 
taciturnity. 

"  I  have  had  bad  news  from  Newbury,"  Jessie 
replied,  hesitating  a  moment  before  adding,  "  Doc- 
tor Carrol  is  dead." 

"Why,  you  quite  startled  me.    I  supposed  some- 


224  JESSIE'S  DILEMMA. 

thing  had  happened  to  your  uncle,"  returned  her 
aunt,  who  added  coldly,  "  Doctor  Carrol's  death 
might  have  been  looked  for  any  time  within  the 
last  twelve  months." 

Jessie  had  known  this,  but  nevertheless  the 
announcement  in  her  aunt's  letter  had  found  her 
entirely  unprepared.  Ever  since  reading  those 
words,  "  Doctor  Carrol  is  dead,"  they  had  been  re- 
peating themselves  over  and  over  again  in  her 
brain,  till  their  import  to  herself  was  fully  realized. 
More  than  once  in  the  last  six  months  she  had 
asked  herself  what  she  would  do  in  the  event  of 
his  death,  and  her  mental  response  had  been  im- 
mediate, —  "I  will  go  at  once  to  Arlington  and 
find  Doctor  Landford." 

But  was  it  necessary  to  do  this  at  once?  If  she 
did  so  it  would  necessitate  her  putting  herself  in 
direct  opposition  to  her  aunt,  who  would  certainly 
not  consent  to  her  starting  on  a  journey  without 
knowing  her  object  and  destination. 

If  her  Aunt  Helen  had  not  been  here  with  her 
there  would  have  seemed  no  question  as  to  her 
duty ;  for  had  she  not  promised  the  doctor  to  de- 
liver the  letter  as  soon  as  she  heard  of  his  death  ? 
That  was,  certainly,  what  she  had  agreed  to  do. 


JESSIE  S   DILEMMA.  225 

Would  it  be  any  easier,  though,  to  keep  this 
promise  a  few  days  hence  ?  They  had  planned  to 
go  home  on  the  morrow,  and  Jessie  could  see  no 
way  to  evade  doing  so,  but  by  declaring  her  pur- 
pose. 

Her  aunt's  opposition  must  be  met  sometime, 
and  as  well  now,  perhaps,  as  a  week  hence.  For, 
at  any  cost,  Jessie  was  determined  to  keep  her 
promise  to  the  dead,  though  something  seemed  to 
tell  her  that  the  consequences  would  not  be  light. 

She  would  wait,  however,  till  their  visitor  should 
leave  before  telling  her  aunt  of  the  journey  she 
intended  taking  that  night.  For  a  moment  she 
had  been  tempted  to  go  without  her  knowledge ; 
but  remembering  the  night  of  suffering  she  had 
once  occasioned  her,  she  had  not  the  heart  to  re- 
peat the  experience. 

She  would  tell  her  that  she  was  going,  and 
where,  but  that  should  be  all ;  for  explanations 
would  involve  what  she  had  no  right  at  present  to 
divulge. 

But  the  doctor  seemed  in  no  haste  to  depart, 
and  Jessie,  ill  at  ease  under  suspense  and  anxiety 
for  her  half-defined  plans,  was  silent  and  abstracted. 
Her  aunt  finally  relinquished  all  effort  to  draw  her 


226  JESSIE'S  DILEMMA. 

into  the  conversation,  and  only  once  did  she  seem 
to  take  any  interest  in  it  whatever ;  and  that  was 
when  the  doctor,  after  commenting  upon  the  use- 
ful life  just  closed,  remarked  that  it  was  very  un- 
fortunate so  brilliant  an  intellect  should  have  been 
clouded  at  the  last.  Then  Jessie  had  interposed. 

"  Doctor  Carrol  has  been  quite  himself  for  the 
last  two  years.  His  derangement  was  only  tempo- 
rary." She  could  not  let  any  one  go  on  supposing 
Doctor  Carrol  to  have  been  insane  at  the  time  of 
his  death.  For  Jessie  was  convinced  that  he  had 
been  in  the  possession  of  a  sound  mind  for  the 
time  she  had  mentioned,  at  least ;  otherwise  she 
would  not  have  regarded  as  binding  the  promise 
she  had  made  him.  She  would  not  feel  herself 
pledged  to  carry  out  the  whim  of  an  insane  man. 
Whatever  was  the  mysterious  confession  which 
that  letter  contained,  she  had  for  some  time  felt 
sure  that  in  the  making  of  it,  the  overburdened 
heart  and  brain  had  found  relief. 

"  Why,  child,  what  an  idea !  Doctor  Carrol 
not  insane  for  the  last  two  years !  I  do  not  think 
his  family  would  claim  so  much  for  him,"  Miss 
Norberry  had  responded,  with  her  usual  asperity 
where  the  doctor  was  concerned. 


JESSIE  S   DILEMMA.  22/ 

To  this  Jessie  did  not  reply.  She  was  content 
with  the  defence  she  had  made,  and  not  caring  to 
differ  from  her  aunt  needlessly,  was  silent. 

Without  being  able  to  give  any  very  good  reason 
for  it,  Jessie  had  of  late  felt  that  the  doctor's  wife 
did  not  care  as  formerly  to  see  her,  and  she  had 
therefore  quite  given  up  going  to  Elm  Brook  Farm. 
Since  mother  and  son  both  seemed  estranged,  she 
had  hesitated  to  force  herself  upon  them,  though 
the  loss  of  their  friendship  had  been  no  small  trial 
to  her. 

"Then  you  consider  Grey's  translation  the  bet- 
ter of  the  two?  I  had  given  the  preference  to 
Halleck's  myself,  having  often  heard  my  brother 
speak  of  it." 

"  Yes  ;  Grey's  is  a  more  literal  translation  of 
the  original,  as  well  as  a  more  scholarly  and  fin- 
ished work,  though  I  am  aware  that  Halleck's  has 
long  been  the  standard." 

Miss  Norberry  and  the  doctor  were  speaking  of 
a  work  which  she  intended  to  give  her  brother  as 
a  holiday  remembrance ;  and  now  followed  a  dis- 
cussion of  the  relative  merits  of  the  two  transla- 
tions. 

Jessie  heard  this  as  she  heard  the  distant  hum 


228  JESSIE'S  DILEMMA. 

of  the  street,  and  it  made  no  more  impression  upon 
her  senses ;  but  she  presently  remembered  that 
time  was  slipping  away,  and  she  had  yet  to  make 
some  preparations  for  her  contemplated  journey. 

She  would  be  obliged  to  tell  her  aunt  at  once 
that  she  was  going,  and  evidently  would  have  to 
make  her  announcement  before  the  doctor  ;  for  he 
apparently  had  no  thought  of  leaving  at  present. 

"  Aunty,  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you,  but  I  have 
just  learned  that  I  shall  be  obliged  to  go  to  New 
York  to-night,  and  I  wish  to  take  the  eight  o'clock 
train.  So  if  you  and  the  doctor  will  excuse  me,  I 
will  go  and  make  my  arrangements."  There  was, 
perhaps,  a  nervous  tremor  in  Jessie's  voice  as  she 
said  this,  but  certainly  no  indecision. 

"  Certainly,  Miss  Jessie ;  and  pray  do  not  let  me 
detain  you  a  moment,"  the  doctor  said,  with  his 
usual  courtesy.  Then  consulting  his  watch,  asked 
if  he  could  not  assist  her  in  any  way,  adding,  "You 
have  scant  time  if  you  have  much  to  do." 

"  Thank  you,  but  my  preparations  will  not  take 
many  minutes,  as  I  have  very  little  baggage  with 
me,"  replied  Jessie,  who  saw  that  the  doctor  could 
render  her  better  aid  now  by  remaining  just  where 
he  was,  than  by  any  more  active  service,  since  his 


JESSIE  S    DILEMMA.  22Q 

presence  was  evidently  a  curb  upon  her  aunt. 
For  Miss  Norberry  had  replied,  with  remarkable 
self-control  for  her,  "  Of  course  you  do  not  for  a 
moment  contemplate  going  to  New  York  alone  ; 
and  you  certainly  do  not  expect  me  to  accompany 
you  at  an  hour's  notice  ?  " 

"  No,  Aunty,  I  do  not  expect  you  to  accompany 
me ;  but  I  must  go  to-night."  There  was  the  dig- 
nity of  a  settled  purpose  in  Jessie's  tone  and  man- 
ner which  for  a  moment  cowed  her  aunt,  who 
quickly  recovered  herself,  however,  enough  to  re- 
spond, — 

"  Pshaw,  child  !  You  know  I  shall  not  allow  you 
to  go  to  New  York  alone,"  and  as  if  this  settle  1 
the  matter,  she  turned  to  the  doctor,  who  had  risen 
to  go,  and  proposed  showing  him  a  list  of  books 
which  had  that  noon  been  sent  her  from  the  pub- 
lishers, and  from  which  she  was  to  make  a  selection 
in  the  morning. 

While  Miss  Norberry  went  for  this,  Jessie  and 
the  doctor  were  left  alone.  For  a  moment  neither 
spoke,  and  then,  with  a  gesture  of  appeal,  Jessie 
said :  "  Do  not  think  me  an  arrant  coward,  Doctor, 
when  I  tell  you  that  it  is  a  terrible  thing  to  me  to 
brave  Aunty's  authority  —  that  I  haven't  a  bit  of 


23O  JESSIE  S    DILEMMA. 

courage  in  doing  it.  But  I  must  go  to  New  York. 
I  am  bound  by  a  solemn  promise  to  do  so,  and  if 
you  will  help  me  I  shall  be  forever  grateful."  Jes- 
sie was  prevented  from  being  more  explicit  as  to 
what  she  wanted  the  doctor  to  do  for  her,  by  her 
aunt's  entrance  at  this  moment. 

The  doctor  had  read  in  the  girl's  troubled  face 
and  manner  a  necessity  for  immediate  action,  and 
as  soon  as  Miss  Norberry  had  concluded  her  volu- 
ble comments  upon  the  list  she  had  brought  him, 
and  to  which  he  had  replied  as  politeness  dictated, 
he  changed  the  subject  by  saying :  — 

"As  Miss  Jessie  is  obliged  to  take  this  journey, 
allow  me  to  offer  myself  as  her  escort.  I  shall  be 
under  the  necessity  of  going  to  New  York  within 
a  few  days,  and  I  can  as  well  go  to-night  as  any 
time.  So,  if  you  will  trust  her  to  my  care,  I  will 
see  her  safely  home." 

The  doctor  had  addressed  Miss  Norberry  rather 
than  her  niece,  and  it  had  proved  a  most  politic 
move. 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  very  kind,  Doctor.  If  Jessie 
were  going  to  New  York  I  should  feel  she  was 
most  fortunate  in  having  your  company,"  returned 
that  lady,  who  was  tactician  enough  not  to  weaken 


JESSIE  S    DILEMMA.  23! 

the  position  she  had  taken  by  seeming  even  to 
consider  the  matter. 

"  Then  you  would  trust  her  to  me  ? "  the  doctor 
interposed. 

"  I  should  consider  myself  most  fortunate  in 
finding  her  such  an  escort,"  was  Miss  Norberry's 
suave  response  while  removing  the  wrapper  from 
a  parcel  she  had  brought  in  with  her.  This  proved 
to  be  a  Latin  Testament  which  she  designed  giv- 
ing her  nephew  Allan,  and  presently  she  was  des- 
canting upon  the  type,  style  of  binding,  etc.,  in 
a  way  which  would  have  led  one  to  suppose  this 
matter  wholly  engrossed  her  thoughts. 

Jessie,  however,  understood  this  fit  of  loquacity. 
Her  aunt  intended  to  keep  the  doctor  engaged  in 
conversation,  giving  her  no  chance  to  leave  the 
room  until  it  was  too  late  to  put  her  plan  in  exe- 
cution ;  for  in  strict  etiquette  she  could  not  go,  as 
their  visitor  was  still  standing.  Evidently  it  must 
be  settled  at  once  if  at  all,  but  now  she  would 
have  two  to  meet  instead  of  one,  as  the  doctor  had 
only  complicated  matters  in  seeking  to  serve  her. 

The  most  she  had  thought  of  his  doing  was  that 
he  might  intercede  for  her  with  her  aunt,  and 
prove  an  ally  against  that  lady's  opposition. 


232  JESSIE  S    DILEMMA. 

"  I  appreciate  the  kindness  of  your  offer,  Doctor, 
but  I  cannot  allow  you  to  put  yourself  to  so  much 
trouble,"  she  said  in  the  first  pause  in  the  conver- 
sation, "  so  I  will  bid  you  good-night,  and  beg  you 
to  excuse  my  leaving  you  so  abruptly  ; "  and  then, 
with  a  nod  and  smile,  she  had  quitted  the  room. 

"  Whatever  can  the  child  mean  ?  She  is  cer- 
tainly beside  herself  to  talk  of  going  to  New  York 
alone.  What  am  I  to  do,  Doctor?"  Evidently 
for  once  Miss  Norberry  was  nonplussed. 

"I  do  not  see  that  you  can  do  anything,"  was 
the  doctor's  reply. 

"  But  I  don't  understand  what  whim  she  can 
have  got  into  her  head.  Of  course  if  it  were  really 
necessary  she  should  go  I  could  change  my  ar- 
rangements and  accompany  her."  It  now  occurred 
to  Miss  Norberry  that  she  might  be  standing  in 
her  own  light  to  further  oppose  her  niece.  It  was 
certainly  poor  policy  to  decry  Jessie  to  the  man 
whom  she  hoped  might  one  day  be  her  husband  ; 
and  she  had  decided  on  a  change  of  tactics  when 
the  doctor  interposed. 

"  Miss  Jessie  may  certainly  be  trusted  to  know 
her  own  business,  and  since  she  says  her  going  is 
imperative,  you  would  be  doing  very  wrong  to  put 


JESSIE  S    DILEMMA.  233 

any  obstacle  in  her  way.  But  give  yourself  no 
uneasiness  about  her.  I  will  go  with  her,  and  see 
that  she  surfers  no  harm.  The  train  leaves  pre- 
cisely at  eight,  and  we  have  a  scant  hour  and  a 
half,"  the  doctor  added,  looking  at  his  watch, 
"which  will  just  give  me  time  to  send  a  telegram 
to  my  sister,  make  a  few  arrangements,  and  meet 
Miss  Jessie  at  the  station." 

Promising  Miss  Norberry  that  she  should  hear 
from  them  as  soon  as  they  reached  New  York,  he 
took  his  leave  of  that  lady,  having  first  won  from 
her  a  reluctant  consent  to  her  niece's  purpose. 

Nevertheless,  when  Jessie,  equipped  for  her 
journey,  sought  her  aunt's  room  to  bid  her  good- 
by,  that  lady's  wrath  broke  over  the  girl's  devoted 
head.  She  bade  her  remember  that  she  was  going 
without  her  consent,  and  that  in  acting  in  direct 
opposition  to  her  wishes,  she  had  forfeited  all 
right  to  her  regard. 

"  I  am  truly  sorry  to  do  so,  Aunty,  but  if  I  did 
not  know  that  you  would  forgive  me  when  I  come 
back  and  tell  you  why  I  was  forced  to  such  a  step, 
it  would  be  a  great  deal  harder  for  me  to  take  it," 
and  pressing  a  kiss  upon  the  stern  face  in  which 
there  was  no  sign  of  relenting,  Jessie  was  gone. 


234  JESSIE'S  DILEMMA. 

Possibly  the  quarterly  installment  of  her  income 
which  she  had  that  day  drawn  in  her  own  name, 
had  been  a  help  to  her  in  standing  by  her  purpose. 
That  money  in  her  pocket  may  have  proved  a  re- 
minder that  she  was  now  legally  her  own  mistress, 
though  this  was  her  first  assertion  of  her  rights. 

On  her  way  to  the  station  Jessie  stopped  at  her 
Aunt  Wilson's,  where  she  made  a  hurried  visit  to 
the  chamber  which  she  always  occupied  when  there. 
For  two  years  Doctor  Carrol's  letter  had  lain  in 
one  of  the  drawers  of  an  escritoire  in  this  room. 
While  transferring  it  now  to  her  satchel,  Jessie 
seemed  to  see  the  doctor  as  he  had  looked  that 
day  when  she  voluntarily  renewed  her  promise, 
pledging  herself  to  carry  out  his  wishes  in  regard 
to  it.  The  memory  of  that  sad  face  as  it  had 
lighted  up  for  a  moment  seemed  to  give  her 
strength  and  courage,  and  she  returned  to  the  car- 
riage with  her  heart  lightened  of  half  its  burden. 

She  had  adroitly  parried  her  Aunt  Wilson's 
questions,  and  that  lady  had  only  elicited  the  fact 
that  Jessie  was  on  her  way  to  the  station  to  take 
the  train  somewhere,  and  that  scant  time  had  pre- 
vented any  explanation. 

Jessie  was  no  less  troubled  than   surprised  to 


JESSIE'S  DILEMMA.  235 

find  Doctor  Forney  awaiting  her  at  the  station, 
and  to  learn  his  determined  purpose  to  accompany 
her  on  this  journey. 

Beside  his  own  desire  to  serve  her,  the  doctor 
urged  his  promise  to  her  aunt  by  which  he  declared 
himself  bound,  and  since  Jessie  herself  had  nothing 
stronger  to  advance  than  the  obligation  of  a  prom- 
ise for  the  step  she  was  taking,  she  could  not  deny 
the  doctor's  plea,  though,  truth  to  say,  she  accepted 
his  escort  very  reluctantly. 

They  were  no  sooner  on  board  the  train  than  she 
took  the  first  opportunity  to  tell  him  that  she  had 
not  been  quite  open  with  her  aunt,  in  giving  her  to 
suppose  that  she  was  simply  going  to  New  York 
City,  as  her  destination  was  really  a  small  town  in 
the  interior  of  New  York  State. 

"But  you  will  not  think  of  going  further  than 
the  city,"  she  said,  in  making  this  explanation,  re- 
minding the  doctor  of  the  loss  of  time  which  such 
a  journey  would  entail  upon  him. 

"  But  I  promised  to  bring  you  home,  did  I 
not  ?  "  he  returned,  smiling. 

"  But  your  business  !  You  did  not  know  to 
what  you  committed  yourself  when  you  made  that 
promise  " 


236  JESSIE'S  DILEMMA. 

Jessie  evidently  meant  that  he  should  weigh  the 
consequences  of  the  step  he  was  about  to  take. 

"  Oh !  my  business  can  wait.  And  now,  Miss 
Jessie,  unless  you  positively  forbid  me,  I  shall  go 
with  you  to  your  journey's  end.  But  if  you  should 
not  allow  me  your  company  it  would  not  absolve 
me  from  my  promise  to  your  aunt.  I  should  still 
follow  and  care  for  you  till  I  saw  you  safely  home. 
Let  me  set  you  right  in  this  matter,"  the  doctor 
continued.  "  You  must  not  think  that  the  taking 
of  this  journey  is  a  trouble  to  me,  or  even  a  hin- 
drance to  my  work.  It  will  interfere  with  no  en- 
gagement ;  and  I  promise  myself  much  pleasure 
from  it  —  in  fact  I  feel  like  a  schoolboy  getting  off 
on  a  holiday,  and  I  mean  to  forget  I  am  not  one ; 
so  if  I  do  anything  particularly  wild  or  foolish,  I 
hope  you  will  excuse  me." 

Jessie  laughed. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  chosen  a  poor  companion 
for  your  holiday  ;  for  I  feel  like  a  disobedient  girl 
who  has  run  away  from  home,  and  I  cannot  forget 
that  I  am  in  disgrace  there  in  consequence,"  she 
said,  a  suspicious  moisture  coming  into  her  eyes 
ere  she  had  finished. 

"  I  see,"  returned  the  doctor.     "  You  are  naughty 


JESSIE'S  DILEMMA.  237 

so  seldom  that  it  does  not  agree  with  you.  Obedi- 
ence," he  continued,  "  is  a  lesson  we  all  have  to 
learn  as  children,  and  I  fancy  you  learned  yours 
rather  better  than  most  children.  But  there  comes 
a  time  in  every  one's  life  when  they  must  decide  the 
right  and  the  wrong  for  themselves. 

"Your  aunt  naturally  wishes  to  retain  the  control 
over  you  which  circumstance  has  given  her,  and 
which  she  has  so  long  exercised  ;  for  a  love  of 
power  is  inherent  in  a  nature  like  hers.  But  if  I 
am  not  mistaken,  she  has  some  Hard  lessons  yet  to 
learn  before  she  will  be  willing  to  accord  you  your 
divine  right  of  a  personal  choice  in  matters  which 
will  make  your  life's  weal  or  woe." 

"  That  may  be  all  true,  but  such  reasoning  fails 
to  reconcile  me  to  myself  ;  for  I  cannofr  forget  that 
aunty  has  given  me  nearly  twenty  years  of  her  life, 
and  that  my  disobedience  will  be  all  the  harder  to 
her  that  she  has  not  learned  the  lessons  you  speak 
of,"  was  Jessie's  reply,  finding  it  convenient  to  veil 
her  annoyance  in  this  way. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

A   NIGHT  JOURNEY. 

r  I  ^*HE  train  was  moving  out  of  the  station,  and 
Jessie's  attention  was  now  drawn  to  their 
fellow  passengers,  who,  with  a  few  exceptions, 
were  all  men.  Directly  in  front  of  her  were  two 
ladies  who  seemed  to  be  without  male  escort,  and 
at  the  farther  end  of  the  car  was  a  young  girl  quite 
alone. 

Whenever  Jessie  had  been  over  this  route  before 
she  had  had  the  company  either  of  her  uncle  or  her 
Aunt  Helen,  and  she  was  curious  to  learn  whether 
she  would  have  been  the  only  lady  travelling  alone 
that  night,  had  the  doctor  not  insisted  upon  being 
her  escort.  She  had  taken  such  a  possibility  into 
account  in  making  her  plans,  realizing  all  the  un- 
pleasantness of  the  situation ;  so  she  was  glad  to 
find  that  there  would  have  been  others  of  her  own 
sex  to  have  kept  her  in  countenance  on  this  night 
journey. 

Now  she  found  herself  wishing  that  she  were 
238 


A    NIGHT   JOURNEY.  239 

alone,  that  she  might  make  the  acquaintance  of  this 
girl  who  was  apparently  circumstanced  as  she  had 
expected  to  be.  Had  this  girl  defied  her  friends  to 
take  this  journey  alone ;  and  was  she  feeling  the 
solitariness  of  her  position  ? 

That  she  was  quite  young  and  slight  in  form  was 
evident  even  at  this  distance,  and  her  dress  and 
travelling  equipments  suggested  good  taste  and  re- 
finement. A  close  gray  veil  was  tied  over  her  hat, 
hiding  the  outline  of  her  face,  but  the  hand  which 
arranged  this  veil  from  time  to  time,  was  small  and 
daintily  gloved. 

The  passengers  were  beginning  to  settle  them- 
selves into  comfortable  positions  for  napping,  as  a 
four-hours  ride  was  before  them  ;  this  being  the 
boat  express,  and  the  train  not  so  crowded  but  that 
in  many  instances  a  whole  seat  was  available. 

Long  after  Jessie  had  succumbed  to  fatigue,  and 
gladly  had  recourse  to  her  travelling  shawl  for  a  pil- 
low, she  noticed  that  her  young  fellow  passenger, 
who  was  evidently  a  novice  at  night  journeying, 
still  kept  her  upright  position. 

Jessie  was  conscious  of  having  been  asleep  when 
the  train  came  suddenly  to  a  standstill,  and  she 
saw  that  the  passengers  were  leaving  the  car. 


24O  A   NIGHT  JOURNEY. 

"  We  need  be  in  no  hurry,  as  the  train  does  not 
go  farther ;  but  I  am  glad  for  your  sake,  Miss  Jes- 
sie, of  this  break  in  the  journey,"  the  doctor  was 
saying,  when,  looking  up,  Jessie  encountered  a  pair 
of  large,  wondering  eyes  fixed  upon  her,  which  might 
have  belonged  to  a  child  of  six  years.  The  next 
moment  she  saw  that  these  troubled  questioning 
orbs  were  the  property  of  her  fellow  passenger  about 
whom  she  had  speculated  earlier  in  the  evening. 

Something  in  the  sweet  childish  face  appealed 
to  Jessie,  and  putting  out  her  hand  just  as  the  girl 
was  being  jostled  past  her,  she  said, — 

"  Are  you  alone,  child  ? "  and  the  next  moment 
she  had  drawn  the  unresisting  girl  out  of  the  crowd. 

"  Yes ;  and  I  am  ever  so  frightened.  I  was  never 
on  the  night  train  before,"  was  the  latter's  naive  re- 
ply as  she  nestled  close  to  Jessie's  side. 

"  I  do  not  wonder ;  but  you  need  not  be  afraid 
any  more  :  keep  close  to  us,  and  we  will  look  out 
for  you,"  was  Jessie's  sympathetic  rejoinder  as  she 
followed  the  doctor  out  of  the  car,  wondering  who 
could  have  had  the  heart  to  trust  such  an  irrespon- 
sible child  to  take  care  of  herself. 

"  Oh !  I  am  ever  so  glad,"  was  the  grateful  re- 
sponse. 


A    NIGHT   JOURNEY.  24! 

Doctor  Forney  had  taken  the  precaution  to  tele- 
graph for  staterooms  on  the  boat,  so  Jessie  and  her 
young  protegt  found  themselves  at  once  provided 
with  sleeping  accommodations,  while  the  doctor 
assured  them  he  should  be  near  at  hand,  as  their 
staterooms  were  contiguous. 

"  I  think  you  were  awfully  good  to  let  me  come 
with  you.  I  never  was  on  a  night  boat  in  my  life, 
and  I  did  dread  it  so  much.  Uncle  John  wrote 
me  to  be  sure  and  not  get  asleep  on  the  train  and 
be  left  ;  but  he  needn't  have  been  afraid,  for  I 
couldn't  have  shut  my  eyes  for  two  minutes,"  was 
the  ingenuous  declaration  of  Jessie's  companion 
the  moment  they  found  themselves  alone.  The 
next  she  told  her  that  her  name  was  Katie  Brent, 
and  that  she  had  been  attending  school  in  Boston. 

"  But  I  haven't  told  you  how  I  happened  to  be 
alone,"  Katie  continued.  "  I  got  a  letter  from 
Uncle  John  yesterday  morning,  with  word  to  come 
right  home  because  mamma  is  very  sick ;  and  I 
had  to  come  alone,  because  he  couldn't  leave  to 
fetch  me.  Papa  is  dead,  and  Uncle  John  takes 
care  of  mamma  and  me." 

"  Do  you  live  in  New  York?"  Jessie  asked,  won- 
dering, if  so,  why  she  had  been  sent  East  to  school. 


242  A    NIGHT   JOURNEY. 

"  O,  no  !  My  home  is  in  Lawson,  and  I  shall 
not  reach  there  till  to-morrow  afternoon.  I  have 
to  take  the  train  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
on  the  Michigan  Central." 

"  Then  you  will  go  all  the  way  with  us,  for  that 
is  our  route.  We  stop  at  Arlington,"  was  Jessie's 
reply. 

"Why,  Arlington  is  only  ten  miles  beyoud  Law- 
son.  Of  course  we  take  the  same  train.  Isn't 
that  splendid  ?  We  have  friends  in  Arlington,  and 
mamma  and  I  often  drive  over  there,"  Katie  added. 

It  was  on  Jessie's  tongue  to  ask  her  if  she  knew 
Doctor  Landford  ;  but  a  question  which  Katie  put 
at  the  moment  drove  it  entirely  from  her  mind. 

"  Is  Doctor  Forney  any  relation  ?  or  is  he  your 
—  friend  ?  "  Katie  added  with  a  little  hesitation. 

"  No ;  he  is  not  related  to  me,  but  he  was  my 
father's  friend  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  and  now 
that  my  father  is  dead,  he  is  my  friend  ;  and  he 
has  come  this  journey  purposely  to  take  care  of 
me."  Jessie's  tone  was  the  least  bit  incisive  as 
she  said  this,  and  a  pair  of  large  blue  eyes  were 
turned  quickly  upon  her.  But  apparently  Katie 
found  nothing  discomforting  in  the  kindly  eyes 
that  met  her  own,  for  she  said  at  once,  — 


A    NIGHT   JOURNEY.  243 

"How  good  of  him!  It  must  be  very  nice  to 
have  such  a  friend  to  take  care  of  one ;  and  then 
he  is  so  —  not  exactly  handsome,  but  distinguished 
looking." 

Jessie  had  not  yet  felt  the  need  of  a  protector 
on  this  journey,  nor  had  she  quite  reconciled  her- 
self to  having  one.  The  peculiar  nature  of  her 
errand  made  the  doctor's  care  savor  too  much  of 
espionage  to  be  entirely  agreeable  to  her,  but  she 
replied,  —  "  Yes ;  he  is  very  kind  to  put  himself  to 
so  much  trouble  for  me,"  and  then  she  bade  Katie 
try  and  sleep,  or  she  might  be  ill  on  the  morrow. 

To  her  surprise,  the  child  (for  she  was  little  more 
than  one)  subsided  at  once. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  dear,  are  you  ill  ? "  Jessie 
asked,  when,  presently,  hearing  a  sob,  she  became 
conscious  that  her  young  companion  was  crying. 

"No;  but  I  was  thinking  of  mamma.  I  am 
afraid  she  will  die,  for  Uncle  John  wrote  she  was 
very  sick." 

"  Oh  !  I  hope  not.  You  are  tired  to-night,  and 
so  you  see  the  dark  side.  She  may  be  very  much 
better  now  than  when  your  uncle  wrote.  Perhaps 
you  will  go  to  sleep  quicker  if  I  lie  down  with 
you,"  Jessie  said  kindly. 


244  A    NIGHT   JOURNEY. 

Room  was  at  once  made  for  her,  and  she  was  no 
sooner  beside  her  young  friend  than  a  pair  of  soft, 
caressing  arms  stole  about  her  neck. 

"  I  thought  you  were  so  tired  that  you  would  go 
right  to  sleep,"  she  said. 

"  I  kept  thinking  about  mamma,  and  I  could 
not,"  was  Katie's  reply  ;  but  a  little  later  her  deep 
and  regular  breathing  told  that  sleep  had  now 
overtaken  her.  Evidently  she  had  felt  lonely,  and 
in  finding  companionship  in  the  near  presence  of 
her  friend,  she  had  also  found  rest. 

By  this  time,  however,  Jessie  was  so  wide  awake 
that  sleep  in  her  own  case  seemed  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, though  she  could  but  feel  thankful  for  the 
impulse  which  had  prompted  her  to  take  this  girl 
into  her  care,  since  Katie  would  have  been  likely 
to  suffer  untold  agonies  alone,  besides  the  risk  to 
which  she  would  have  been  exposed  of  falling  into 
companionship  which  might  have  sullied  the  purity 
of  her  young  life. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

REVELATIONS. 

THE  morning  train  North  from  New  York  took 
our  little  party  of  travellers.  The  doctor  had 
found  time  in  some  miraculous  manner  to  supply 
himself  with  a  small  carpet  bag,  plethoric,  however, 
in  its  proportions.  He  laughingly  affirmed  in  bring- 
ing it  into  the  car  that  he  had  not  much  idea  what 
was  in  it ;  but  since  it  was  the  fashion  to  have  such 
an  appendage,  he  had  thought  best  to  procure  one. 

Jessie  had  not  before  realized  the  hasty  prepara- 
tions which  the  doctor  had  been  obliged  to  make 
for  this  journey  ;  or  the  fact  that  he  had  come  away 
without  those  conveniences  of  the  toilet  which  even 
twenty-four  hours  make  necessary. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Doctor,  that  you  did  not  count  the 
cost  when  you  proposed  yourself  as  knight-errant 
to  a  headstrong  girl,"  she  said  a  little  ruefully  ;  for 
this  reminder  of  his  needs  showed  her  the  incon- 
venience to  which  he  must  have  been  subjected. 

"  This  service  is  not  service,  so  being  done,  but 
245 


246  REVELATIONS. 

being  so  allowed,"  returned  the  doctor,  smilingly 
adding,  "  Should  one  always  count  the  cost  of  a 
pleasure  ?  I  know  that  moralists  prate  of  the  wis- 
dom of  doing  so ;  but  I  shall  take  refuge  for  any 
such  imprudences  in  the  more  pleasing  philosophy 
which  bids  us  seize  and  be  thankful  for  all  the  op- 
portunities that  the  gods  offer." 

A  moment  before  Jessie  had  been  reminded  of 
the  unconventional  position  in  which  she  found 
herself,  as  a  handsome  pair  of  grays  were  driven 
up  to  the  station,  and  from  the  carriage  had 
alighted  a  young  lady  whom  she  had  more  than 
once  met  in  the  upper  circles  of  New  York  so- 
ciety. 

But  Miss  Viola  Hammersmith  had  not  seen  her 
as  she  crossed  the  waiting  room  with  friends  who 
were  to  take  the  train  ;  and  Jessie  had  been  saved 
introductions  and  explanations  which  would  at  least 
have  been  embarrassing. 

The  bright  morning,  and  the  prospect  of  no  more 
changes,  had  transformed  Katie  Brent  who  was  fairly 
beaming  with  life  and  fun  ;  nothing  having  in  it  the 
least  element  of  ludicrousness  escaped  her. 

The  scenery  through  which  they  were  soon  pass- 
ing was  new  to  Jessie,  and  unconsciously  she  had 


REVELATIONS. 


given  herself  up  to  observation  of  the  country, 
leaving  Katie  and  the  doctor,  who  had  become 
very  good  friends,  to  amuse  themselves. 

After  a  time  she  was  conscious  of  the  doctor's 
leaving  the  car,  and  presently  her  train  of  thought 
was  broken  by  Katie's  touching  her  on  the  shoul- 
der, and  asking  if  she  intended  to  stay  in  Arling- 
ton long. 

"  I  hope  to  get  through  my  business  there  in  a 
few  hours,"  was  Jessie's  reply;  and  then  the  ques- 
tion which  she  had  been  about  to  ask  Katie  the 
night  before,  recurred  to  her. 

"  I  believe  you  said  you  were  acquainted  in  Ar- 
lington. Do  you  know  Doctor  Landford  there  ?  " 

"  O,  yes  !  That  is,  I  have  often  seen  him.  He 
was  called  in  to  consult  with  our  own  physician 
when  papa  was  sick.  But  he  isn't  there  now,  you 
know  ;  he  moved  out  West  as  much  as  two  years 
ago." 

"Not  in  Arlington  now?"  was  Jessie's  excla- 
mation. 

"  No  ;  he  went  out  West  and  bought  a  farm. 
Then  you  didn't  know  he'd  gone  away,  and  have 
come  all  this  distance  to  see  him  ?  "  said  Katie, 
struck  by  the  troubled  look  on  her  friend's  face. 


248  REVELATIONS. 

"  Yes  ;  I  have  come  all  this  way  to  see  him. 
How  very  unfortunate  that  he  should  have  moved 
away.  You  are  quite  sure  he  has?"  she  asked, 
finding  herself  hoping  that  Katie  was  mistaken. 

"  O,  yes !  He  gave  up  practice  because  his 
health  was  failing,  and  it's  certainly  two  years 
since  he  went  away."  Katie  evidently  knew  of 
what  she  was  talking. 

Glancing  up  at  the  moment,  Jessie  saw  the  doc- 
tor on  the  car-platform  in  conversation  with  another 
passenger,  and  suddenly  remembered  that  what 
she  had  just  learned  would  affect  him  as  much  as 
herself. 

How  was  she  to  tell  him  that  this  journey  to 
Arlington  was  a  wild-goose  chase,  after  all,  since 
the  man  she  sought  was  not  there  ?  If  she  had 
been  alone  this  circumstance  would  have  lost  half 
its  annoyance  to  her  just  then. 

Why  had  the  doctor  insisted  upon  coming  with 
her?  She  must  think  what  to  do  now,  and  she 
found  herself  hoping  that  the  doctor  would  not 
return  to  his  seat  beside  her  until  she  had  arranged 
her  course  of  action. 

Since  Katie  did  not  know  where  in  the  West 
Doctor  Landford  was,  there  seemed  nothing  else 


REVELATIONS.  249 

to  do  but  to  keep  on  to  Arlington,  where  he  had 
formerly  lived,  and  where  they  would  be  able  to 
learn  his  present  residence;  for  she  could  not 
abandon  her  purpose.  If  he  were  living  she  must 
find  him. 

The  undertaking  had  suddenly  assumed  a  dif- 
ferent aspect,  however.  If  she  were  obliged  to 
greatly  extend  her  journey,  she  must  write  her 
friends,  as  she  had  no  right  to  cause  them  need- 
less anxiety  by  a  prolonged  absence. 

And  now  Jessie  felt  that  she  had  made  a  mis- 
take in  leaving  her  aunt  entirely  in  the  dark  as  to 
her  errand.  She  should  have  told  her  that  it  was 
something  which  she  had  promised  to  do  for  Doc- 
tor Carrol ;  and  that  lady  was  not  so  obtuse  but 
she  would  have  recognized  a  promise  to  the  dead 
as  a  binding  obligation.  She  would  write  and  tell 
her  Aunt  Helen  this  on  reaching  Arlington. 

But  there  was  the  doctor  still  to  be  told.  How 
would  he  take  the  communication  which  she  must 
at  once  make  him  —  that  Arlington  was  not,  after 
all,  to  be  the  end  of  her  journey  ?  Jessie  wished 
now  that  she  had  not  been  so  reticent  with  him. 
Since  she  must  make  him  some  explanation,  she 
determined  to  be  even  more  explicit  in  doing  so 


25O  REVELATIONS. 

than  it  seemed  well  to  be  with  her  aunt  at  the 
present  stage  of  affairs. 

She  had  just  decided  as  to  how  far  she  would 
be  justified  in  committing  herself,  when  the  doctor 
returned  to  his  seat,  bringing  with  him  an  assort- 
ment of  reading  matter. 

"  Now  you  will  have  something  with  which  to 
amuse  yourselves,"  he  said,  distributing  it  between 
Jessie  and  her  companion. 

"  Doctor,  I  have  a  confession  to  make,"  said  the 
former,  as  he  took  his  seat  beside  her. 

"  I  can  promise  you  absolution  all  the  same, 
without  hearing  it,"  was  his  reply. 

"  You  may  not  be  so  ready  to  absolve  me  when 
you  learn  that  in  part,  at  least,  my  confession  is 
compulsory,"  Jessie  returned,  frankly  meeting  the 
kindly  eyes  turned  upon  her. 

"Not  at  all  compulsory.  Tell  me  just  as  much 
or  as  little  as  you  please.  I  have  asked  no  ques- 
tions, because  I  know  I  may  trust  you ;  and  if  you 
tell  me  nothing,  I  shall  still  do  so,"  was  the  doctor's 
hearty  rejoinder. 

"You  are  very  kind,  but  I  see  now  that  I  ought 
to  have  told  you  in  the  first  place,  that  my  errand 
to  Arlington  is  on  business  for  Doctor  Carrol." 


REVELATIONS.  251 

"  Ah  !  Did  his  death  make  this  business  neces- 
sary, may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  made  him  a  promise  more  than  two 
years  ago,  which  was  to  be  kept  as  soon  as  I  heard 
of  his  death.  It  was  simply  to  deliver  a  letter  to 
his  old  friend,  Doctor  Landford.  But  Doctor  Car- 
rol did  not  wish  it  should  be  received  till  after  his 
death  ;  and  it  contained  a  communication  of  such 
importance  that  even  then  he  did  not  wish  it 
trusted  to  the  mails.  But  meanwhile  he  charged 
me  to  say  nothing  of  it  to  any  one,  and  that  charge 
sealed  my  lips  when  I  could  give  no  reason  for 
taking  this  journey.  I  have  never  before  men- 
tioned it,  and  I  should  not  now,  only  that  circum- 
stances have  conspired  to  make  it  necessary. 

"You  perhaps  know,"  Jessie  went  on,  "that 
Doctor  Carrol  was  subject  to  strange  fits  of  de- 
pression ;  but  you  may  never  have  heard  that  he 
accused  himself,  at  times,  of  a  great  crime.  From 
his  own  words,  I  gather  that  this  letter  is  an  expla- 
nation of  the  matter  which  has  long  been  a  mys- 
tery to  his  family.  For  some  reason,  he  seemed 
to  take  a  fancy  to  me,  and  to  feel  that  he  could 
leave  what  he  called  his  confession,  in  my  hands  ; 
though  why  he  should  have  done  so  I  have  never 


252  REVELATIONS. 

understood.  You  may  say  I  was  unwise  to  take 
sueh  a  trust,  and  I  assure  you  I  regretted  after- 
ward having  done  so  ;  but  the  circumstances  of 
my  accepting  it  were  peculiar.  Later,  when  I 
tried  to  return  this  letter  to  the  doctor,  and  be 
free  of  any  obligation  in  the  matter,  he  seemed  so 
distressed  that  I  relinquished  my  purpose.  His 
evident  grief  and  disappointment  that  I  should 
wish  to  do  so  made  me  repent  my  unwillingness 
to  execute  so  small  a  service  for  him,  and  I  volun- 
tarily bound  myself  then  by  a  solemn  promise,  to 
carry  the  letter  to  Doctor  Landford.  And  now 
comes  my  reason  for  telling  you  this  story.  It 
seems  Doctor  Landford  is  not  in  Arlington,  as  I 
supposed.  I  have  just  learned  from  Miss  Katie 
that  he  removed  from  there  more  than  two  years 
ago,  —  went  West  and  bought  a  farm  ;  she  does 
not  know  just  where." 

"  So  you  will  be  obliged  to  give  up  your  attempt 
to  find  him."  The  doctor  spoke  as  if  such  a  pro- 
ceeding were  the  only  one  to  be  entertained. 

"  No ;  I  do  not  propose  to  give  it  up.  If  Doctor 
Lajidford  is  living  and  in  the  country,  I  do  not  in- 
tend to  go  home  till  I  find  him  ;  for  I  feel  that  my 
promise  to  Doctor  Carrol  holds  me  to  this  duty. 


REVELATIONS.  253 

I  shall  go  on  to  Arlington  and  learn  Doctor  Land- 
ford's  present  place  of  abode,  and  then  I  will  write 
to  Aunty,  giving  her  some  explanations  which  will 
account  for  my  prolonged  absence." 

"I  do  not  wish  to  dissuade  you,  Miss  Jessie, 
from  doing  what  you  feel  to  be  a  duty,  but  do  you 
not  exaggerate  the  obligation  ?  Have  you  consid- 
ered the  difficulties  that  may  lie  in  your  way? 
This  is  a  big  country.  Have  you  realized  what 
'West'  might  mean?  Doctor  Landford  may  have 
gone  beyond  the  pale  of  civilization,"  Doctor  For- 
ney continued ;  "  for  there  is  no  accounting  for  the 
eccentric  freaks  which  may  take  a  man  afflicted 
with  the  farm-mania,  particularly  one  who  has 
been  tied  up  all  his  life  to  a  profession.  What  if 
your  quest  should  take  you  to  Kansas  or  Ne- 
braska ? " 

"The  prospect  of  a  long  journey  does  not  in- 
timidate me,"  was  Jessie's  reply.  "  My  only  trou- 
ble is  "  — she  hesitated  before  adding  —  "that  you 
will  feel  yourself  obliged  to  go  with  me." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  go  alone  ? "  the  doctor  asked 
gravely. 

"  No  ;  to  be  frank,  I  do  not.  It  would  be  much 
pleasanter  to  have  company.  But  I  have  no  right 


254  REVELATIONS. 

to  expect  or  accept  such  a  sacrifice  of  your  time 
and  plans,  to  say  nothing  of  any  other  trouble  to 
which  it  would  put  you.  And,  Doctor,  I  want  to 
assure  you  now  that  I  am  not  ungrateful  for  all 
your  kindness,  though  it  shames  me  to  remember 
how  ungraciously  I  accepted  your  company." 

That  he  had  held  his  position  on  sufferance  only, 
the  doctor  had  been  well  aware ;  but  even  then  he 
had  found  pleasure  in  it.  Under  other  circum- 
stances he  might  have  counselled  waiting  until 
Doctor  Landford  could  be  heard  from,  or  till  the 
time  of  year  was  more  favorable  for  travelling,  but 
he  did  neither. 

"  I  will  forgive  you  for  any  sins  against  myself 
in  that  direction,  either  real  or  imaginary,"  he  said  ; 
and  then  added  more  seriously,  "but  is  a  man's 
promise  not  every  whit  as  binding  upon  him  as  a 
woman's  upon  her  ?  You  rather  put  me  to  shame 
when  you  infer  that  so  slight  an  obstacle  as  a  long 
journey  will  keep  me  from  fulfilling  mine  to  your 
aunt.  Is  it  quite  fair  to  doubt  that  anything  which 
I  can  do  for  you  will  give  me  pleasure,  Miss  Jes- 
sie ?  If  you  propose  crossing  the  continent,  I  am 
at  your  service."  There  was  a  sincerity  in  the 
doctor's  words  and  manner  which  touched  Jessie. 


REVELATIONS.  255 

No  ;  it  was  not  fair  to  doubt  him  after  such 
proof  as  he  had  given  her  :  and  would  she  be  wise 
to  exchange  his  companionship  for  that  of  her 
aunt,  even  if  she  could  be  persuaded  to  go  with 
her? 

For  it  had  occurred  to  Jessie  that  she  might  wait 
in  Arlington  for  her  relative  to  join  her.  But, 
truth  to  say,  she  did  not  find  the  thought  of  this 
agreeable. 

"  Doctor,  I  shall  be  truly  grateful  if  you  will  go 
with  me  ;  but  it  will  always  be  on  my  conscience 
to  have  put  you  to  so  much  trouble,"  was  her 
hearty  response. 

"  Not  at  all,  Miss  Jessie ;  Colorado  or  California, 
just  as  you  say.  It  is  all  the  same  to  me,"  was 
his  gracious  reply. 

"Oh!  I  hope  it  will  not  take  us  quite  to  the  An- 
tipodes," laughingly  rejoined  Jessie. 

This  conference  had  been  carried  on  in  so  low  a 
tone  that  even  Katie  on  the  next  seat  knew  noth- 
ing of  its  import.  She  was  aware  that  her  friends 
were  engaged  in  earnest  conversation,  but  at  the 
doctor's  last  cheery  rejoinder,  the  tone  of  which 
only  she  had  caught,  she  held  up  a  grotesque  car- 
toon, and  her  lively  comments  upon  it  produced  a 


256  REVELATIONS. 

merry  laugh  from  her  friends,  and  the  conversation 
became  general. 

Though  the  morning  had  seemed  to  promise  a 
pleasant  day,  the  afternoon  proved  gray  and  low- 
ery ;  and  in  the  early  falling  shadows  of  evening 
Jessie  and  the  doctor  took  leave  of  Katie  Brent. 
From  the  car  window  they  saw  their  late  compan- 
ion driven  away  in  her  uncle's  carriage,  receiving 
from  her  a  parting  salute  in  the  kiss  she  had 
thrown  them,  her  bright  face  being  a  sufficient 
guaranty  that  no  sad  tidings  had  awaited  her. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

WESTWARD    BOUND. 

DOCTOR  LANDFORD  had  moved  to  Kan- 
sas,  our  friends  were  informed  on  reaching 
Arlington,  and  that  he  was  living,  and  very  much 
improved  in  health  for  the  change,  his  old  neigh- 
bors who  heard  from  him  often,  were  able  to  affirm. 

The  following  night  found  Jessie  and  the  doctor 
at  Rochester,  whence  they  started  on  their  West- 
ward-bound journey.  Our  readers  must  know  that 
this  was  before  palace  and  sleeping  cars  whirled 
one  over  the  rails  in  happy  unconsciousness  of 
travelling :  when  the  cramped  quarters  of  the  or- 
dinary railroad  car  were  perhaps  accepted  with  as 
little  murmuring  as  are  the  more  luxurious  accom- 
modations of  the  present  time. 

On  passing  through  Indianapolis,  the  second 
night  of  their  journey,  Jessie  was  roused  from  an 
unrestful  nap  by  the  lights  of  the  station  flashing 
into  the  car,  and  the  noise  and  bustle  of  entering 
and  departing  passengers.  Human  nature  had 

257 


258  WESTWARD    BOUND. 

never  looked  quite  so  forlorn  to  her  as  did  some 
of  the  people  who  had  been  waiting  for  this  mid- 
night train,  and  she  found  herself  sympathizing 
with  their  expressions  of  thankfulness  when  they 
and  their  belongings  were  comfortably  disposed 
aboard  the  car. 

As  they  ran  out  of  the  station  Jessie  saw  that 
it  was  snowing,  but  fatigue  had  soon  made  her 
again  unconscious  of  her  surroundings.  The  coun- 
try over  which  they  were  speeding  the  following 
morning  lay  several  feet  deep  in  snow ;  and  it  was 
still  falling,  making  a  dreary  outlook  from  the  car 
window,  and  one  from  which  our  friends  turned 
with  an  undefined  feeling  of  dread. 

As  the  day  advanced  the  storm  increased,  or 
rather  they  were  running  into  it,  as  soon  became 
apparent.  The  railroad  officials  seemed  to  appre- 
hend no  trouble  from  it,  however,  when  they  left 
St.  Louis  that  afternoon,  and  relying  upon  what 
they  said,  rather  than  upon  his  own  judgment,  the 
doctor  had  decided  to  go  on. 

By  dark  a  second  engine  was  telegraphed  for, 
as  fears  were  now  entertained  that  they  would  not 
be  able  to  get  through,  having  found  the  snow  on 
the  prairies  deeper  than  had  been  calculated  upon. 


WESTWARD    BOUND.  259 

They  received  their  accession  of  steam  at  Stick- 
ney,  where  they  had  waited  for  it,  a  small  dreary 
town  in  Eastern  Missouri,  which  boasted  of  but 
one  public  house,  and  that  of  anything  but  an  in- 
viting character. 

Had  the  town  promised  ordinary  comforts  the 
doctor  would  have  proposed  stopping  over.  Later 
he  regretted  that  they  had  not  taken  such  accom- 
modations as  Stickney  offered  ;  for  they  had  ac- 
complished but  a  few  miles  when  they  found  them- 
selves unable  to  proceed. 

One  of  their  engines  had  given  out,  and  the 
other  was  entirely  inadequate  to  make  its  way 
through  the  drifts  here  encountered. 

The  outlook  was  now  most  discouraging,  for  the 
next  station  was  all  of  ten  miles  beyond,  and  in 
their  rear  was  the  disabled  engine ;  so  to  advance 
or  go  back  was  alike  impossible. 

A  council  was  held,  the  result  of  which  was  that 
the  greater  part  of  the  passengers  went  to  the  help 
of  the  train  hands  ;  and  after  considerable  labor 
and  delay  they  cleared  their  snow-bound  engine, 
and  were  once  more  in  motion,  having  left  the 
disabled  one  on  the  track. 

To  reach  the  next  station  was  now  the  limit  of 


26O  WESTWARD    BOUND. 

their  hopes,  but  even  this  was  not  to  be  realized, 
for,  scarcely  a  mile  on,  they  encountered  another 
blockade  more  formidable  than  the  first ;  and  now 
the  wind  and  driving  sleet  made  an  attempt  at 
clearing  the  track  impracticable.  There  was  noth- 
ing to  be  done  but  wait  where  they  were  till  morn- 
ing, when  it  was  hoped  the  storm  would  have  abated. 

Jessie  had  known  early  in  the  evening  that  ap- 
prehensions were  entertained  of  their  not  getting 
through ;  but  the  most  she  had  feared  had  been 
delay.  That  they  would  be  storm-bound  on  the 
open  prairies  had  not  occurred  to  her. 

When  they  left  Stickney  with  the  second  engine 
she  had  supposed  there  would  be  no  more  trouble, 
and  had  settled  down  hoping  to  sleep  and  get  re- 
lief from  the  blinding  headache  with  which  she 
had  all  the  afternoon  been  suffering. 

As  night  came  on  the  cold  grew  intense,  and 
this  now  proved  another  discomfort  to  our  travel- 
lers. If  the  doctor  had  not  wisely  taken  the  pre- 
caution to  provide  extra  wraps  at  Rochester,  they 
would  have  been  poorly  prepared  to  encounter  the 
biting  wind  which  penetrated  every  corner  of  the 
frail  structure  which  was  their  only  shelter  from 
the  storm. 


WESTWARD    BOUND.  26 1 

Fuel  was  not  short,  and  a  good  fire  was  kept  hi 
the  stove ;  but  it  seemed  to  make  little  impression 
upon  the  atmosphere  a  few  feet  away  from  it,  and 
round  it  were  huddled  those  of  the  passengers 
who  could  come  within  the  radius  of  its  warmth. 

Fatigue  and  anxiety  had  by  midnight  induced 
the  severest  headache  to  which  Jessie  had  ever 
been  a  victim,  and  though  she  would  gladly  have 
kept  all  knowledge  of  her  suffering  from  the  doc- 
tor, she  found  it  impossible  to  suppress  all  ex- 
pression of  distress. 

So,  added  to  the  other  exigencies  of  the  situa- 
tion, the  doctor's  mind  was  harrowed  by  the  fear 
that  Jessie  would  succumb  to  the  hardships  of 
this  journey.  Ur.less  rest  and  proper  care  were 
soon  to  be  had,  she  would  be  really  ill,  if  indeed 
not  so  already. 

It  was  the  keenest  torture  to  him  to  know  that 
she  was  suffering,  and  to  find  himself  helpless  to 
relieve  her.  The  moan  that  now  and  then  escaped 
her  lips  was  like  a  stab  to  his  heart.  He  had  been 
an  insensible  brute  to  let  this  delicate  girl  attempt 
such  a  journey.  He  should  not  have  permitted 
her  to  come  out  here  to  these  Western  wilds  at 
this  time  of  year.  In  the  bitterness  of  his  spirit 


262  WESTWARD    BOUND. 

that  he  was  powerless  to  save  her  from  her  pres- 
ent suffering,  he  accused  himself  of  having  been 
led  by  the  promptings  of  his  own  selfish  heart 
which  found  such  delight  in  her  presence,  rather 
than  by  the  consideration  of  her  true  welfare. 

That  Jessie  had  been  firm  in  her  purpose  to 
take  this  journey  even  against  his  remonstrance 
did  not  count  with  him  now.  He  was  a  man,  and 
knew  the  perils  of  such  an  undertaking  better  than 
she  did ;  and  he  should  not  have  allowed  it.  She 
would  have  listened  to  reason  had  he  presented 
the  case  to  her  as  it  was  his  duty  to  have  done. 
Now  if  anything  happened  to  her,  how  should  he 
meet  the  friends  who  were  trusting  her  to  his 
care  ? 

This  man's  feelings  were  not  to  be  envied  as  he 
paced  the  aisle  of  that  railroad  car  the  greater  part 
of  the  night ;  for  the  intense  cold  made  movement 
imperative,  since  he  had  used,  early  in  the  even- 
ing, every  available  wrap  to  protect  Jessie. 

If  he  could  have  seen  her  eyes  close,  and  know 
that  she  was  sleeping,  he  would  have  found  the 
situation  far  less  trying  ;  but  to  meet  at  every 
turn  the  flushed  face  and  the  mute  suffering  in  her 
eyes  tortured  him  almost  to  madness. 


WESTWARD    BOUND.  263 

When  the  long-looked-for  morning  dawned  it 
was  found  that  the  storm  had  indeed  abated,  though 
a  vast  sheet  of  snow  in  mountainous  drifts  lay  in 
unbroken  whiteness  about  them,  and  not  a  habita- 
tion within  miles. 

As  soon  as  it  was  fairly  light  a  number  of  the 
train  hands  had  started  for  Stickney  to  get  help, 
and  with  them  had  gone  some  half-dozen  of  the 
passengers  to  procure  provisions. 

The  doctor  had  proposed  making  one  of  the 
party,  thinking  to  find  something  in  the  town  to 
relieve  Jessie's  head,  a  commission  which  he  could 
hardly  depute  to  another,  but  she  would  not  hear 
to  his  leaving  her,  and  he  reluctantly  yielded  to 
her  entreaties  not  to  do  so,  though  he  had  liber- 
ally contributed  to  the  purse  made  up  for  supplies. 

A  feverish  unrest  seized  Jessie  if  the  doctor 
quitted  her  side  even  for  a  moment ;  and  the  thought 
of  having  him  gone  for  hours  filled  her  with  a 
nervous  terror. 

Among  the  passengers  was  but  one  person  to 
whom  Jessie  felt  herself  in  the  least  drawn,  and 
that  was  a  woman  whose  tidy,  though  rusty,  black 
dress  bespoke  respectable  poverty. 

In  one  of  the  intervals  in  which  the  doctor  had 


264  WESTWARD    BOUND. 

left  her  to  take  an  outlook  at  the  weather,  Jessie 
had  first  spoken  to  Mrs.  Mitchel,  and  learned  that 
she  was  a  minister's  widow,  and  a  native  of  New 
England.  But  it  seemed  she  had  lived  for  the 
last  thirty  years  in  the  West,  and  was  now  return- 
ing from  a  visit  in  Eastern  Missouri  to  her  home 
in  Kansas  where  she  owned  a  small  place. 

Her  sweet,  serene  face  had  first  attracted  Jessie, 
and  on  making  her  acquaintance  the  pleasing  im- 
pression was  borne  out ;  for  Mrs.  Mitchel  was  a 
lady,  though  bearing  the  evidences  of  poverty  and 
hard  work  in  her  dress  anJ  person.  Somehow 
this  woman's  presence  gave  Jessie  a  sense  of  pro- 
tection, for  the  beautiful  girl  found  herself  the  ob- 
ject of  more  attention  than  was  at  all  pleasing ; 
and  but  for  Mrs.  Mitchel  being  near  she  would 
have  dreaded  the  doctor's  leaving  her  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

Few  of  us  find  it  easy  to  be  heroic  and  unselfish 
while  our  nerves  are  crying  out  with  pain  which 
takes  all  our  strength  to  bear. 

The  morning  had  brought  Jessie  no  relief  from 
the  distress  in  her  head,  while  the  murmuring  and 
complaints  of  those  about  her,  who  were  suffering 
far  less  discomfort,  had  become  nearly  unbearable. 


WESTWARD    BOUND.  265 

Only  to  be  alone,  anywhere,  it  mattered  not  where. 
For  one  blessed  hour  of  entire  seclusion  Jessie  felt 
she  would  willingly  have  sacrificed  most  anything 
that  she  possessed.  But  no  ;  her  present  torture 
must  be  borne,  and  there  was  no  calculating  how 
long. 

By  noon  she  began  to  regret  that  she  had  op- 
posed the  doctor's  going  to  Stickney ;  for  the  men 
who  had  left  in  the  morning  for  supplies  had  not 
yet  returned,  and  she  remembered  that  the  doc- 
tor had  not  eaten  a  proper  meal  since  his  dinner 
the  day  before,  at  St.  Louis. 

Before  leaving  the  hotel  there  he  had  taken  the 
precaution  to  have  some  sandwiches  put  up  for 
Jessie's  lunch,  as  she  had  eaten  a  very  light  din- 
ner. Two  of  these  she  had  that  morning  given 
Mrs.  Mitchel,  but  there  were  more  left  in  her  bas- 
ket as  well  as  some  crackers  and  cake. 

Having  no  disposition  herself  to  eat,  she  had 
not  remembered  this  food  till  she  heard  those 
about  her  complaining  of  hunger.  Finding  she 
could  not  induce  the  doctor  to  make  use  of  it  she 
proposed  that  he  should  give  it  to  a  young  woman 
in  the  next  seat,  who  had  a  child  with  her ;  but 
this  he  declined  to  do 


266  WESTWARD    BOUND. 

"  You  will  be  able  to  eat  something  yourself  by 
and  by,  and  possibly  no  supplies  will  reach  us  to 
night,"  he  said,  as  a  reason  for  not  doing  as  she 
wished. 

This  possibility  had  not  occurred  to  Jessie,  but 
it  was  on  his  account  that  it  now  gave  her  con- 
cern. 

"  What  will  you  do  ?  You  have  eaten  nothing 
to-day,"  she  said  earnestly.  "Do  take  one  of 
these  sandwiches  to  please  me." 

"  I  think  I  shall  get  along  as  well  as  the  rest,'-* 
he  said,  smiling.  But  on  her  further  urging  the 
basket  upon  him,  he  consented  to  give  its  contents 
to  those  who  seemed  most  in  need,  provided  she 
would  allow  him  to  go  and  get  something  fresh  for 
herself  ;  otherwise  it  should  not  be  disturbed. 

"  But  I  do  not  need  anything.  Believe  me,  I 
could  not  eat  the  most  tempting  dish  in  the  world, 
so  do  not  keep  food  for  me  that  others  are  suffer- 
ing for.  I  was  selfish,  however,  in  not  letting  you 
go  to  Stickney  with  the  rest,  for  there  you  could 
have  had  a  warm  dinner.  I  see  I  did  wrong  to 
keep  you." 

"It  is  not  too  late  now,"  he  returned  ;  "if  you 
think  you  can  get  along  for  a  few  hours,  it  will 


WESTWARD    BOUND.  26/ 

not  take  me  longer.  I  shall  be  back,  if  possible, 
before  dark,  with  something  you  will  be  able  to  eat, 
I  hope,"  he  said,  acting  at  once  upon  her  conces- 
sion. Before  she  could  remonstrate  he  passed  the 
basket  to  Mrs.  Mitchel,  telling  her  to  help  herself, 
and  distribute  the  remainder. 

"  And  you  did  not  take  so  much  as  a  cracker," 
Jessie  said  regretfully,  as  the  basket  was  returned. 

Before  leaving  the  car  the  doctor  installed  Mrs. 
Mitchel  in  his  place,  bidding  her  take  good  care  of 
Miss  Norberry  till  his  return,  and  then,  with  a  lin- 
gering glance  at  the  flushed  face,  he  was  gone. 

Three  weary  hours  passed,  and  then  it  was  an- 
nounced that  the  party,  who  had  left  in  the  morn- 
ing, were  in  sight  ;  and  a  few  minutes  afterward 
they  boarded  the  train.  It  seemed  they  had  met 
the  doctor  within  a  mile  of  Stickney,  all  right,  but 
they  predicted  he  would  not  be  back  that  night, 
as  he  would  never  be  able  to  face  the  wind,  which 
was  fearful. 

They  reported  the  telegraph  wires  all  down,  so 
no  aid  was  to  be  expected  through  them.  But 
workmen  had  come  out  from  Stickney  who  were 
already  patching  up  their  disabled  engine  in  order 
that  they  might  get  through  with  it. 


268  WESTWARD    BOUND. 

It  was  evident  at  once  that  liquor  had  been  pro- 
cured in  town  as  well  as  food,  for  the  returning 
party  were  far  more  hilarious  than  circumstances 
seemed  to  warrant. 

When  the  supplies  were  passed  around  among 
the  passengers,  Jessie  courteously,  but  firmly  de- 
clined what  was  pressed  upon  her  acceptance. 
She  had  turned  with  loathing  from  the  cold  ham 
and  hard  biscuit  and  cheese,  though  her  refusal 
of  the  food  had  shown  nothing  of  this. 

She  could  not  eat  anything.  She  had  no  ap- 
petite, she  said,  but  thanked  those  who  were 
anxious  that  she  should  have  her  share. 

"Well,  if  you  can't  eat,  this  is  just  the  stuff 
that  will  cure  you,"  said  a  half-tipsy  man,  thrust- 
ing a  bottle  in  her  face,  with  the  rough  injunction, 
"Take  some  of  it,  and  it  will  bring  the  appetite." 

A  glance  at  the  man  who  proffered  it,  showed 
Jessie  that  her  best  course  would  be  to  ignore  the 
offered  panacea,  since  it  would  be  futile  to  argue 
with  a  person  in  his  condition. 

Her  tacit  rejection  of  the  liquor,  or  Mrs.  Mitch- 
el's  timid  protest  against  his  forcing  upon  the 
young  lady  what  she  did  not  want,  seemingly  an- 
gered the  drunken  man,  who  with  an  oath  raised 


WESTWARD    BOUND.  269 

the  bottle,  and  the  next  instant  it  would  have  been 
flung  in  Jessie's  face,  had  not  the  uplifted  hand 
been  suddenly  dashed  aside.  The  next  moment 
sturdy  arms  had  pinioned  the  half-tipsy  man,  while 
muttered  imprecations  were  coupled  with  the  com- 
mand to  let  the  young  lady  alone. 

A  horror  of  what  she  had  just  barely  escaped 
seized  Jessie,  and  the  next  moment  she  had  lost 
all  consciousness  of  what  was  passing  around  her. 
Nature  had  finally  succumbed  to  the  strain  brought 
to  bear  upon  it,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
Jessie  had  fainted. 

Mrs.  Mitchel  was  quickly  surrounded  by  those 
who  would  have  gladly  assisted  in  the  restoration 
of  the  beautiful  girl  whose  late  peril  had  excited 
the  sympathy  of  every  one  about  her,  and  when  a 
few  moments  later  she  opened  her  eyes  they  rested 
only  on  friendly  faces. 

"  Did  I  faint  ? "  she  asked,  realizing  from  the 
disorder  of  her  dress  and  surroundings  something 
of  the  efforts  which  had  been  make  to  restore  her. 

Then  it  all  came  back,  —  the  drunken  man  with 
his  upraised  arm  and  angry  manner,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment it  seemed  likely  that  her  swoon  would  be 
repeated. 


2/O  WESTWARD    BOUND. 

From  this,  however,  she  had  rallied,  and  Mrs. 
Mitchel  feeling  the  necessity  of  quiet  for  her 
charge,  begged  those  who  had  gathered  round 
them,  anxious  to  render  aid,  to  leave  her  now,  that 
she  might  sleep,  and  presently  Jessie  had  fallen 
into  what  seemed  a  comfortable  nap. 

Then  it  was  the  good  woman  discovered  that 
her  companion's  satchel  had  been  overturned,  and 
its  contents  scattered  about,  in  the  effort  to  find 
cologne  or  smelling-salts  during  her  faint.  And 
among  other  things  strewn  over  the  seat  and  upon 
the  floor,  was  a  letter,  which,  in  returning  to  the 
bag,  her  eye  happened  to  fall  upon  the  address,  a 
familiar  one  to  herself. 

"  I  wonder  if  she  knows  Doctor  Landford  ?  She 
must  have  forgotten  to  mail  this  letter  to  him. 
I'll  remind  her  of  it  when  she  rouses  up,"  was  Mrs. 
Mitchel's  thought  as  she  restored  the  letter  to  her 
young  friend's  satchel. 

Meanwhile  Jessie  was  entirely  unconscious  how 
near  she  had  come  to  losing  the  letter  which  was 
the  cause  of  all  her  present  trouble  and  discomfort. 

While  lying  in  her  semiquiescent  state  in  which 
her  faint  had  left  her,  she  was  feeling  herself  most 
fortunate  in  not  having  been  allowed  to  come  on 


WESTWARD    BOUND.  2/1 

this  journey  alone,  which  would  have  happened  but 
for  the  doctor's  kind  persistence.  Never  till  now 
had  she  realized  the  limitations  to  which  as  a 
woman  she  was  bound.  She  had  thought  that  her 
brave,  strong  spirit  would  carry  her  through  what- 
ever it  might  be  necessary  to  meet ;  but  this  after- 
noon she  had  received  a  lesson  which  had  taught 
her  the  weakness  and  dependence  of  her  sex. 

In  promising  to  carry  out  Doctor  Carrol's  wishes, 
she  had  counted  upon  no  other  impediment  than 
the  opposition  of  friends,  and  the  conviction  which 
was  now  forced  upon  her,  that  she  could  hardly 
have  kept  that  promise  without  Doctor  Forney's 
aid,  was  humiliating  in  the  extreme. 

She  would  be  under  obligations  to  him  now  as 
long  as  she  lived,  since  there  was  no  way  in  which 
she  could  repay  him  for  this  service. 

Yes ;  there  was  one  way  in  which  she  might 
cancel  this  obligation.  Why  was  the  thought  so 
repugnant  to  her  ?  Certainly  she  knew  of  no  one 
to  whom  she  would  sooner  entrust  her  interests. 

Perhaps  it  was  a  relic  of  schoolgirl  sentiment  - 
alism  which  made  her  feel  that  for  one's  husband 
one  should  entertain  something  more  than  re- 
spect and  confidence  —  a  warmer  feeling  even  than 


2/2  WESTWARD    BOUND. 

admiration  for  his  virtues.  Might  not  such  a  mar- 
riage relation  as  that  of  which  she  had  sometimes 
dreamed  be  merely  a  myth  ?  Would  not  such  a 
complete  absorption  of  one's  self  in  another  be  a 
hindrance  to  higher  growth  ?  Was  her  Aunt 
Helen  entirely  in  the  wrong  when  she  affirmed, 
as  she  often  did,  that  women  had  arrived  at  a  state 
of  beatitude  when  a  lover  was  not  essential  to  their 
existence  ?  Jessie  had  sometimes  thought  there 
might  be  truth  in  her  aunt's  logic  when  she  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  real  life  of  some  of  her 
young  married  friends. 

But  why  did  the  doctor  not  return  ?  She  was 
recalled  to  the  remembrance  of  this  fact  by  the 
lamps  being  lighted  in  the  car.  Could  anything 
have  happened  to  him  ?  With  a  feeling  of  self- 
condemnation  that  she  had  rested  easily  so  long, 
while  he  had  been  meeting  exposure  for  her — for 
she  felt  sure  he  had  gone  to  town  more  on  her 
account  than  his  own  —  she  raised  herself  on  her 
elbow  and  peered  anxiously  out  into  the  gathering 
shadows. 

It  happened  at  this  moment  that  the  doctor 
entered  the  car,  and  noted  the  wistful  expression 
of  the  face  turned  toward  the  window  pane. 


WESTWARD    BOUND.  2/3 

"  Back  at  last,  safe  and  sound.  I  hope  you  have 
not  been  anxious,"  he  said,  reaching  her  side 
before  she  saw  him. 

Jessie  turned  quickly,  and  there  was  a  world  of 
feeling  in  the  soft  eyes  that  she  raised  to  his  face, 
not  less  beautiful  that  tears  stood  in  them. 

"I'm  so  glad  you  have  come.  Yes;  I  was  grow- 
ing anxious.  Are  you  not  very  tired?"  she  asked, 
moving  her  satchel  that  he  might  sit  down. 

"  No ;  I  stopped  back  by  the  engine  where  they 
are  at  work,  and  took  breath  and  got  warm.  But 
how  is  your  head  ?  " 

"It  is  better,  I  think,"  she  said,  trying,  at  least, 
to  believe  that  it  was. 

"  I  hope  I  have  brought  you  something  you  can 
eat ;  but  first  I  want  you  to  drink  some  of  this,  as  I 
think  it  will  help  your  head,"  the  doctor  said,  pro- 
ceeding to  pour  from  a  can  in  his  hand  a  mug  full 
of  hot  tea,  telling  Jessie  in  the  meantime  how  the 
engineer  had  heated  it  for  him. 

Certainly  there  were  none  of  the  evidences  of 
fatigue  about  the  doctor  for  which  she  had  been 
prepared  ;  for  he  stood  before  her  now  as  fresh 
and  smiling  as  if  he  had  not  just  accomplished  a 
feat  which  would  have  taxed  the  strength  and  en- 


2/4  WESTWARD    BOUND. 

durance  of  a  much  sturdier  man.  But  if  Jessie 
had  seen  him  half  an  hour  before,  when  he  reached 
the  engine,  and  was  helped  on  board  by  some  of 
the  workmen,  she  would  scarcely  have  been  pre- 
pared for  so  speedy  a  recovery. 

Jessie  thanked  the  doctor,  and  sat  up  and  drank 
her  tea  like  a  docile  child. 

"  You  are  a  very  good  girl,"  was  the  doctor's 
smiling  comment  as  he  took  from  her  hand  the 
empty  mug.  "  Presently  you  shall  have  the  rest 
of  your  dinner." 

As  he  spoke,  the  porter  entered  with  a  dish  of 
hot  soup,  and  while  she  was  eating  this,  the  doc- 
tor entertained  her  with  an  account  of  his  advent- 
ures since  leaving  the  train. 

The  soup  which  had  been  served  with  the  doc- 
tor's own  dinner,  he  had  been  sure  would  not  tempt 
Jessie's  appetite,  but  he  did  not  tell  her  that  he 
had  assisted  in  making  the  savory  dish  he  had 
brought  her. 

The  success  of  his  efforts  afforded  him  no  small 
degree  of  satisfaction,  for  Jessie  praised  the  soup, 
and  ate  it  with  a  relish  which  was  the  strongest 
argument  in  its  favor. 

In  keeping  this  from  her  the  doctor  did  not  sus- 


WESTWARD    BOUND.  2/5 

pect,  however,  that  she  was  returning  him  his  own 
coin  ;  for  Jessie  had  begged  Mrs.  Mitchel  to  say 
nothing  of  her  fainting  fit,  and  he  was  never  any 
wiser  in  regard  to  what  had  happened  in  his  ab- 
sence, than  was  she  in  the  matter  of  his  culinary 
ability. 

But  if  Jessie  had  ever  seemed  fair  and  lovable 
to  the  doctor  it  was  that  afternoon,  when  he  had 
found  her  watching  for  his  return  ;  and  a  glad  light 
in  her  eyes  had  told  him  how  welcome  to  her  was 
his  sudden  appearance.  Her  bright  hair  had  be- 
come loosened  from  her  comb,  and  lay  in  wavy 
luxuriance  about  her  shoulders,  while  the  graceful, 
easy  negligence  of  her  dress  seemed  to  bring  her 
nearer  to  him  than  ever  before.  In  her  manner, 
too,  there  was  a  subtle  change  as  charming  as  it 
was  indefinable.  He  felt  himself  no  longer  held  at 
a  distance.  A  soft,  winning  grace,  born  of  a  grate- 
ful appreciation  of  his  kindness,  had  taken  the 
place  of  the  quiet  dignity  which  had  been  a  blend- 
ing of  indifference  and  hauteur. 

Somewhere  about  midnight  our  snow-bound 
travellers  were  roused  by  the  sudden  jar  which 
united  the  train  with  the  engine,  and  a  little  later 
they  were  once  more  in  motion,  and  on  their  way. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

SURRENDER. 

I  HAD  no  idea  we  were  en  route  for  Mont 
Blanc,"  was  Doctor  Forney's  thoroughly  dis- 
mayed ejaculation  when  morning  dawned  upon 
them. 

He  had  known  for  some  time  that  they  were 
standing  still  ;  but  it  had  taken  daylight  to  reveal 
the  fact  that  both  engines  were  buried  in  a  moun- 
tainous drift  which  even  steam  had  proved  inade- 
quate to  force  a  way  through. 

On  learning  how  matters  stood,  it  was  evident 
to  everyone  that  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
abandon  the  train,  and  try  and  reach  the  small 
German  settlement  thought  to  be  about  two  miles 
distant.  Since  their  last  start,  Jessie  had  slept 
heavily  ;  even  the  commotion  caused  by  their  sud- 
denly coming  to  a  stand-still  had  failed  to  arouse 
her. 

But  she  must  be  awakened  now,  for  the  passen- 
gers were  already  making  preparations  to  leave  the 

276 


SURRENDER.  2/7 

car,  and  Mrs.  Mitchel  had  just  reminded  the  doc- 
tor that  Miss  Norberry  would  not  be  ready,  and 
prepared  to  rouse  her. 

This  the  doctor  would  not  allow  her  to  do ;  for 
though  he  dreaded  to  announce  to  Jessie  their 
situation,  he  would  not  depute  it  to  another.  But 
how  could  he  propose  to  this  girl  that  she  should 
walk  two  miles  over  an  unbroken  prairie,  and  in 
such  weather  too  ?  What  would  he  not  have 
given  to  save  her  this  ordeal.  He  feared  already 
that  her  strength  had  been  taxed  to  its  utmost 
limits.  How  would  she  bear  the  exposure,  or  the 
toilsome  walk  that  must  lie  before  them,  in  the 
teeth  of  a  keen  northwest  wind,  and  possibly 
through  drifts  which  would  require  all  a  man's 
strength  to  surmount  ? 

Even  for  himself  it  would  be  an  ordeal  of  suffer- 
ing, but  for  this  delicate  girl  who  had  never  known 
exposure  of  any  kind,  it  might  be  death. 

For  a  moment  the  wild  idea  seized  him  not  to  al- 
low Jessie  to  leave  the  train.  If  the  distance  to  the 
settlement  was  not  more  than  a  few  miles,  supplies 
of  food  might  be  sent  for.  Had  cold  and  hunger 
been  the  only  foes  to  face,  this  might  not  have 
been  impracticable  ;  but  attacks  from  Indians  were 


2/8  SURRENDER. 

not  unknown  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  if 
they  escaped  this  danger  there  were  still  others  in 
the  shape  of  wild  beasts. 

No ;  if  the  rest  left  the  train  they  must  do  so 
too.  It  was  not  necessary  to  waken  Jessie,  for  at 
this  moment  she  opened  her  eyes,  and  seeing  all  the 
passengers  moving,  asked  if  they  had  reached  Sed- 
ley. 

Then  it  was  that  the  doctor  announced  to  her 
the  necessity  for  their  leaving  the  train,  expressing 
the  concern  he  felt  lest  she  would  not  be  able  to 
bear  the  exposure. 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  will  manage,  Miss  Jes- 
sie, but  there  seems  nothing  else  to  be  done.  I 
feel  as  if  it  is  almost  suicidal  for  you  to  attempt  it, 
though  you  are  likely  to  perish  if  you  stay  here." 

Jessie  saw  something  of  the  struggle  which  this 
had  cost  the  doctor,  and  she  said  quite  cheerfully  : 

"  Oh  !  you  must  not  fear  for  me.  I  shall  no  doubt 
get  along  as  well  as  the  rest.  But  if  we  are  to 
walk  the  remainder  of  the  way  to  Kansas,  we  had 
best  be  about  it,"  she  added,  commencing  at  once 
to  make  herself  ready. 

She  insisted  upon  Mrs.  Mitchel's  taking  one  of 
her  wraps,  and  the  other  she  allowed  the  doctor  to 


SURRENDER.  2/9 

wind  about  her  head  and  shoulders'  in  the  way  he 
proposed. 

"  You  have  no  idea  how  bleak  the  wind  is  on  the 
prairies,"  he  said  solicitously.  "  You  will  need  all 
the  protection  possible  against  it."  And  Jessie  did 
not  demur  at  any  arrangement  of  her  dress  which 
he  saw  fit  to  make,  though  she  laughingly  com- 
pared herself  to  a  mummy  when  he  considered  her 
ready  for  a  start. 

Their  large  lunch  basket  was  left  in  the  car,  as 
well  as  the  doctor's  valise  ;  but  Jessie's  satchel  he 
insisted  upon  taking,  and  strapped  it  about  his 
waist  in  order  that  both  hands  might  be  free. 

"  Missouri  has  certainly  proved  a  most  unhospit- 
able  State  to  us,  but  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  we 
should  be  held  here  as  hostages  of  the  summer ;  for 
it  will  surely  take  July  and  August  to  melt  these 
banks  of  snow,"  Jessie  said  on  leaving  the  car, 
assuming  a  gayety  she  was  far  from  feeling. 

The  doctor's  party  for  a  time  kept  up  with  the 
others,  but  finally  they  began  to  fall  behind,  and 
ere  long  were  far  in  the  rear. 

The  crust  upon  which  they  had  counted  to  bear 
their  weight  was  not  even.  In  places  it  would  do 
so  for  some  distance,  and  then  for  a  time  their 


28O  SURRENDER. 

progress  would  be  by  wallowing  rather  than  walk- 
ing. 

Mrs.  Mitchel,  though  advanced  in  years,  had  the 
endurance  which  a  working  life  had  given  her,  and 
she  now  proved  herself  equal  to  waging  quite  a 
battle  with  wind  and  snow,  bearing  the  struggle 
much  better  than  might  have  been  supposed.  But 
it  was  soon  evident  that  Jessie's  strength  was  fail- 
ing. More  than  once  she  must  have  yielded  to  her 
desire  for  rest  which  was  almost  overpowering,  had 
not  a  strong  arm  closed  about  her  with  a  vise-like 
pressure,  bearing  her  along  and  imparting  strength 
and  courage. 

"  I  think  we  must  have  wandered  into  the  Arctic 
regions,  and  shall  never  see  anything  but  snow 
again,"  she  said  plaintively  when  their  struggle  had 
been  prolonged  for  more  than  two  hours,  and  only 
a  limitless  expanse  of  snow  was  to  be  seen. 

"  No  ;  we  are  still  in  inhospitable  Missouri,"  re- 
turned the  doctor,  "  but  if  we  do  not  slump  through 
into  China  I  think  we  must  soon  get  out  of  it." 

Few  words  were  spoken,  for  breath  was  of  too 
much  value  to  waste  it  in  speech ;  but  that  the 
doctor's  thoughts  were  constantly  with  her,  Jessie 
found  the  arm  about  her  waist  a  convincing  proof. 


SURRENDER.  28 1 

More  than  once  her  touching  appeal  that  he 
would  let  her  rest  only  for  a  moment  wrung  his 
heart  ;  but  he  knew  that  her  life  depended  upon 
her  keeping  in  motion.  Were  she  allowed  to  rest, 
she  would  not  be  able  to  go  on. 

"  You  will  not  fail  now  when  you  have  come  so 
far.  Keep  up  a  little  longer;  we  must  soon  see 
the  settlement.  You  have  done  bravely,  and  it 
can't  be  much  farther."  These  and  like  words  of 
encouragement  fell  from  the  doctor's  lips  when- 
ever Jessie's  courage  was  on  the  point  of  giving 
out. 

But  her  form  leaned  more  and  more  heavily 
upon  him,  and  he  would  not  have  been  surprised 
at  any  moment  had  she  sunk  limp  and  lifeless  in 
the  snow  at  his  feet. 

It  was  something  like  three  hours  since  they 
had  left  the  train  when  they  espied  in  the  dis- 
tance what  they  thought  must  be  the  settlement 
for  which  they  had  started  ;  and  presently  a  shout 
from  the  more  forward  ones  of  the  party  announced 
this  fact.  * 

As  they  approached,  some  eight  or  ten  strag- 
gling log  cabins  could  be  plainly  distinguished, 
but  it  was  the  nearest  one  for  which  the  whole 


282  SURRENDER. 

party  started  ;  and  when  the  doctor  came  up  the 
house  was  already  full. 

Good  Frau  Steinhauser  was  doing  her  best  to 
make  her  guests  comfortable  ;  but  with  the  most 
hospitable  intent  she  could  not  take  care  of  so 
many,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  greater  number 
could  only  find  her  house  a  temporary  shelter. 

On  seeing  the  doctor  and  his  party  enter,  the 
good  woman  cried  out  : 

"  Es  gibt  andere  Hauser  in  der  Stadt.  Meins  ist 
nicht  das  Einzige.  Ich  habe  keinen  Platz  fur  so 
viele  Leute  ;"  and  then  her  eye  falling  on  Jessie 
she  added  :  "  Ihre  Frau  sieht  sehr  krank  aus.  Es 
thut  mir  Leid." 

With  much  gesticulation  the  good  woman  com- 
municated the  fact  that  her  neighbor  Stupp's  house 
just  beyond  was  empty,  and  that  they  would  find 
fuel  and  other  things  to  make  them  comfortable. 

While  speaking  Frau  Steinhauser  reached  the 
doctor  a  key  which  she  had  taken  from  a  nail. 
This  would  admit  him  to  the  shelter  she  had  pro- 
posed. 

By  this  time,  however,  Jessie's  exhausted  condi- 
tion had  excited  general  sympathy ;  and  a  move- 
ment was  made  that  she  might  come  nearer  to 


SURRENDER.  283 

the  fire.  But  she  had  heard  the  rude  laugh  which 
greeted  Frau  Steinhauser's  mistake,  and  any  place 
in  which  she  could  escape  these  people  would  have 
seemed  to  her  a  desirable  refuge. 

"  Let  us  go  there.  We  shall  at  least  be  by  our- 
selves," she  said  in  an  undertone  to  the  doctor, 
and  he  hesitated  no  longer. 

The  owner  of  this  cabin,  Jacob  Stupp,  had  buried 
his  wife  the  week  before,  and  finding  the  loneli- 
ness of  the  place  unbearable  afterward,  he  had 
gone  to  town  leaving  the  care  of  his  premises  to 
his  neighbor  Steinhauser. 

In  recommending  it  to  the  doctor  and  his  party 
the  good  Frau  had  said  nothing  of  the  circum- 
stance which  had  placed  it  at  his  disposal ;  for  so 
great  was  the  fear  of  the  fever  in  that  region  that 
the  simple  people  thereabouts  would  nearly  as  soon 
have  gone  shelterless  as  enter  where  this  disease 
had  lately  reigned.  But  had  she  told  him  the  story 
of  her  neighbor's  death,  the  doctor  would  have  done 
just  as  he  did,  since  no  other  course  was  open  to 
him.  They  could  not  stay  where  they  were,  and 
there  was  no  certainty  of  faring  better  had  Jessie 
been  able  to  go  farther. 

Jacob   Stupp's  cabin  contained  but  one   room, 


284  SURRENDER. 

and  its  only  furniture  was  a  cook-stove,  a  deal 
table,  two  flag-bottomed  chairs,  an  old-fashioned 
case  of  drawers,  and  a  cottage  bedstead,  but  a  pal- 
ace would  not  have  been  more  welcome  to  the  lit- 
tle party  who  had  at  once  taken  possession. 

Their  rude  quarters  had  soon  put  on  something 
of  an  air  of  comfort,  for  the  doctor  found  plenty  of 
fuel  on  the  premises,  and  a  roaring  fire  was  ere 
long  sending  its  warmth  into  every  corner  of  the 
cabin. 

In  rummaging  about  to  find  dry  clothing  for  Jes- 
sie and  herself,  Mrs.  Mitchel  had  come  upon  some 
clean  bedding  put  carefully  away,  and  the  good 
woman  was  not  slow  to  utilize  it.  She  was  no 
sooner  warm  than  she  seemed  to  forget  her  fa- 
tigue, and  at  once  went  to  work  to  remove  Jessie's 
boots  and  stockings,  and  to  rub  some  warmth  and 
life  into  the  girl  who,  on  entering  the  cabin,  had 
dropped  into  a  chair,  from  which  she  had  not  since 
moved.  For  Jessie  allowed  the  woman  to  take 
off  her  wet  clothing,  and  wrap  her  in  Frau  Stupp's 
clean  blankets,  as  passively  as  a  child. 

Meanwhile  from  the  cabin's  stores  the  doctor 
had  produced  some  tea,  which  he  soon  had  sim- 
mering on  the  fire. 


SURRENDER.  285 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  will  find  it  the  most  pala- 
table cup  of  tea  you  ever  drank,  but  it  is  hot, 
which  is  the  essential  thing  just  now,"  he  said, 
pouring  Jessie  a  cupful  of  the  decoction  he  had 
been  making. 

Mrs.  Mitchel  had  just  prevailed  upon  her  to  lie 
down,  but  she  sat  up  and  drank  the  tea,  since  the 
doctor  wished  it,  though  she  would  rather  not  have 
been  disturbed. 

"  It  is  quite  good.  Herr  Stupp  must  be  some- 
thing of  an  epicure,"  she  said,  with  a  dreary  at- 
tempt at  a  smile,  as  she  passed  him  back  the  cup. 

"  We  shall  not  starve  if  the  snow  embargo  is 
not  lifted  at  once,  for  if  it  comes  to  the  worst  we 
can  stay  the  pangs  of  hunger  with  black  bread 
and  sauerkraut,"  said  the  doctor,  who  had  been 
investigating  the  larder ;  but  he  decided  not  to 
•  disturb  these  delicacies  if  other  food  was  to  be  ob- 
tained in  the  settlement. 

While  he  was  putting  on  his  coat  to  go  out  in 
quest  of  edibles,  Mrs.  Mitchel  happened  to  go  to 
the  closet  for  something,  when  her  face  at  once 
expressed  a  strong  disapprobation  of  the  premises. 
Had  those  shelves  been  filled  with  the  most  de- 
licious of  dainties,  they  would  hardly  have  tempted 


286  SURRENDER. 

her  appetite  after  the  odor  which  had  met  her  nos- 
trils. She  said  nothing,  but,  looking  up,  she  saw 
that  the  doctor  was  convulsed  with  merriment. 

"  I  knew  it  was  there,  for  it  made  itself  evident 
when  I  was  hunting  for  the  tea,"  he  said,  produc- 
ing from  its  receptacle  a  piece  of  Limburgher 
cheese.  "  It  hardly  seems  the  thing  to  take  pos- 
session of  friend  Stupp's  house  and  throw  away 
his  stores,  but  I  think  I  will  do  so  in  this  case," 
he  said,  and  presently  this  unsavory  morsel  had 
made  its  exit  from  the  cabin. 

"  Why,  you  look  as  if  you  were  in  a  high  fever. 
Do  you  feel  sick  ?  "  Mrs.  Mitchel  asked  anxiously. 
She  was  in  the  act  of  putting  some  dishes  on  the 
table,  thinking  to  forward  the  meal  which  the  doc- 
tor had  gone  out  to  procure  ;  but  she  came  at  once 
to  Jessie's  bedside  and  began  testing  the  tempera- 
ture of  her  body. 

"  I  am  not  sick,  but  I  never  was  quite  so  tired 
in  my  life,"  was  the  girl's  languid  response. 

"I  don't  like  your  having  so  much  color.  When 
we  came  in  you  were  as  white  as  that  sheet," 
returned  Mrs.  Mitchel,  examining  her  critically. 

"  Do  not  fear  that  I  shall  be  ill.  I  am  very 
healthy.  If  I  am  flushed  it  is  from  fatigue,  and 


SURRENDER.  28/ 

you  need  not  be  alarmed  if  I  am  a  little  feverish  ; 
it  is  only  the  reaction  from  the  cold."  Jessie 
spoke  as  if  it  was  an  effort  to  do  so,  but  hearing 
a  step  outside  the  door,  she  said  earnestly  :  "  Pray 
do  not  show  the  doctor  that  you  are  anxious  about 
me.  He  has  trouble  enough  now." 

A  moment  later  the  doctor  entered,  having  can- 
vassed the  settlement  and  procured  bread,  butter, 
eggs,  sugar,  and  a  few  potatoes. 

"  Now  we  will  soon  have  some  dinner,"  he  said, 
looking  with  satisfaction  upon  Mrs.  Mitchel's  prep- 
arations ;  but  his  countenance  quickly  changed  as 
he  noted  the  flushed  face  upon  the  pillow. 

"  How  are  you  feeling  now  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Thoroughly  lazy,  as  you  see,"  was  her  reply ; 
but  finding  his  fears  were  not  disarmed,  she  added, 
"  I  shall  be  all  right  before  long  ;  rest  is  all  I  need. 
If  you  and  Mrs.  Mitchel  will  do  the  cooking  to-day, 
I'll  change  places  with  you  to-morrow." 

"  Are  you  sure  your  head  does  not  ache,  and  that 
you  are  not  suffering  in  any  way  ? "  he  asked,  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  her  forehead  as  he  spoke. 

For  a  moment  she  allowed  it  to  rest  there,  and 
then  with  a  caressing  gesture,  she  clasped  it  in 
both  her  own. 


288  SURRENDER. 

"  If  you  begin  to  fancy  me  ill,  I  shall  feel 
obliged  to  get  up  and  prove  to  you  that  I  am  not," 
she  said,  attempting  to  rise. 

But  this  the  doctor  would  not  allow  her  to  do, 
and  she  had  lain  passively  back  among  the  pillows, 
as  if  resigned  to  the  situation. 

But  as  night  came  on  it  was  evident  that  she 
was  indeed  ill  ;  nor  could  she  conceal  from  her 
watchful  attendants  that  she  was  suffering.  Ever 
since  her  effort  to  sit  up  and  eat  a  bit  of  the  egg 
which  the  doctor  had  himself  cooked  and  urged 
upon  her,  she  had  seemed  to  grow  worse. 

Early  in  the  evening  the  doctor  had  gone  to  try 
and  find  in  the  settlement  some  remedy  to  keep 
down  the  fever  which  he  feared  would  otherwise 
become  settled  upon  her ;  and  he  had  been  fort- 
unate enough  to  obtain  one  with  the  workings  of 
which  he  was  familiar.  Though  no  one  had  offered 
to  go  to  the  sick  girl,  the  doctor  found  plenty 
ready  to  offer  advice ;  and  in  some  cases  it  com- 
mended itself  to  his  judgment,  particularly  when 
one  kindly  old  soul  sent  a  sedative  for  a  cooling 
wash. 

This  Mrs.  Mitchel  used  thoroughly,  and  it 
proved  very  grateful  to  the  sufferer  who  roused 


SURRENDER.  289 

enough  to  realize  what  was  being  done  for  her,  and 
then  dropped  off  again  into  unconsciousness. 

All  that  night  Doctor  Forney  sat  by  her  bedside 
administering  at  regular  intervals  the  remedy  which 
he  had  never  known  to  fail  in  breaking  up  a  fever, 
every  little  while  renewing  the  wet  cloth  upon  her 
head. 

He  insisted  upon  doing  this  himself,  for  early  in 
the  evening  he  had  seen  that  Mrs.  Mitchel  would 
not  be  equal  to  it.  The  poor  woman  was  com- 
pletely worn  out  with  the  fatigue  of  the  day,  and 
before  midnight  was  sleeping  soundly  on  the  cot, 
which  'the  doctor  had  improvised  by  turning  the 
large  woodbox  over  on  its  side,  and  piecing  this 
out  with  the  table.  It  was  better  than  sleeping  on 
the  floor  where  he  had  feared  she  would  take  cold, 
and  proved  as  restful  a  couch  as  perhaps  she  had 
ever  enjoyed,  since  there  is  nothing  like  fatigue  to 
sweeten  rest. 

The  doctor  had  assured  Mrs.  Mitchel  that  he 
would  get  all  the  sleep  he  needed,  but  if  he  had 
expected  to  do  so  he  signally  failed. 

The  hard,  straight-backed  chair  in  which  his 
vigil  was  spent  did  not  invite  slumber ;  but  the 
anxiety  he  was  feeling  would  probably  have  ban- 


290  SURRENDER. 

ished  sleep  had  the  conditions  been  much  more 
favorable. 

More  than  once  as  the  hours  went  on  he  was 
startled  to  the  very  depths  of  his  nature  by  Jessie's 
incoherent  talk.  Had  she  indeed  grown  to  care 
for  him  as  her  words  seemed  to  imply  ?  At  mo- 
ments he  believed  this  was  so,  and  then  Reason 
would  show  him  the  fallacy  of  building  upon  the 
utterances  of  delirium.  Running  along  with  the 
involuntary  confession  of  a  love  which  she  had 
heretofore  well  concealed  if  he  were  the  object,  was 
the  fancy  that  this  journey  had  been  undertaken 
for  his  sake. 

This  complete  reversal  of  the  true  state  of  the 
case  was  perhaps  the  method  of  madness,  since 
there  is  no  reason  in  unreason  ;  and  the  doctor 
found  the  superstructure  of  his  hopes  suddenly 
swept  away. 

Daylight  was  coming  in  the  eastern  sky  when 
the  sick  girl  finally  sunk  into  a  quiet  slumber,  and 
now  the  doctor  braced  his  chair  back  against  the 
wall,  and  in  this  position  gained  a  comfortable  nap. 

With  morning,  Jessie's  symptoms  were  more 
favorable,  and  though  weak  and  listless  to  the  last 
degree,  all  danger  of  fever  was  evidently  averted. 


SURRENDER.  2QI 

And  now  those  of  her  friends  who  knew  her 
best  would  hardly  have  recognized  her  in  the  re- 
action that  at  once  set  in.  She  who  up  to  this 
time  had  made  the  best  of  all  her  discomforts 
became  suddenly  unreconciled  to  the  situation. 

She  could  not  stay  here.  She  must  get  away, 
and  there  certainly  was  some  means  by  which  they 
might  do  so.  When  finally  made  to  understand 
that  this  was  impossible,  and  that  they  might  be 
detained  here  a  week,  she  had  broken  down  and 
cried. 

Then  it  was  that  the  doctor  had  tried  to  comfort 
her  much  as  he  would  a  grieved  child. 

This  state  of  things  continued  for  three  days, 
Jessie  chafing  continually  at  their  detention,  and 
insisting  that  she  was  able  to  travel,  though  scarcely 
having  strength  to  sit  up. 

The  doctor's  patience  seemed  infinite,  and  finally 
won  the  recognition  it  deserved. 

"  I  believe  you  are  the  kindest  and  best  man  that 
ever  lived,  and  I  am  the  most  selfish  and  hateful 
of  women,"  she  said  at  last,  in  a  burst  of  generous 
frankness.  "  How  can  you  have  been  so  patient 
with  me  all  along  when  I  have  been  so  selfish  and 
ungrateful  ? " 


SURRENDER. 


"  You  are  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  At 
least,  if  you  are  I  have  failed  to  see  it  ;  perhaps 
because  I  love  you." 

This  last  admission  had  slipped  from  the  doc- 
tor's tongue  involuntarily.  He  had  never  meant 
to  speak  to  Jessie  of  his  love  again,  since  it  could 
only  annoy  her  to  do  so  ;  but  the  words  had 
sprung  from  his  heart,  and  now  they  could  not  be 
unsaid,  though  they  were  no  sooner  uttered  than 
regretted. 

"  I  can  hardly  credit  your  loving  me,  for  I  am 
so  unworthy,"  Jessie  said,  with  a  sweet  humility, 
"  but  since  you  say  so,  I  must  believe  you,  and  any 
woman  who  could  persistently  decline  a  love  which 
so  ennobled  and  honored  her  must  be  devoid  of 
every  womanly  feeling." 

The  doctor  knew  that  a  pair  of  limpid  eyes  were 
bent  upon  him,  but  for  a  moment  he  could  not 
meet  them.  Had  she  meant  what  her  word  seemed 
to  imply  ? 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  you  accept  the  love  I 
offered  you  two  years  ago  ?  "  he  asked,  not  a  mus- 
cle of  his  face  changing,  so  great  was  the  self-con- 
trol he  was  exercising. 

"  Not  only  that  I  accept  it,  but  that  I  shall  hence- 


SURRENDER.  2Q3 

forth  wear  it  as  my  woman's  crown.  I  did  not 
know  you  two  years  ago  ;  and,  in  fact,  I  do  not 
believe  I  do  now,  for  your  goodness  is  a  constant 
surprise  to  me,"  was  Jessie's  impassioned  response. 

"  And  you  promise  to  be  my  wife  ?  "  The  doctor 
had  taken  both  her  hands  in  his  own  as  he  asked 
this  question,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  they  were 
not  alone. 

"  I  promise  to  be  your  wife,  and  to  be  both 
proud  and  happy  in  the  love  which  I  never  till 
now  appreciated,"  Jessie  said  with  gentle  earnest- 
ness. 

"  God  bless  you !  So  I  have  won  you  at  last, 
my  treasure,"  said  the  doctor,  with  vehement  pas- 
sion as  he  gathered  her  to  his  breast.  It  mattered 
not  at  this  moment  that  a  third  party  was  a  wit- 
ness of  his  joy,  for  his  happiness  had  come  too  un- 
expectedly to  be  received  with  calmness.  A  man 
less  open  and  generous  in  his  nature  might  have 
veiled  his  feelings  more,  but  looking  up  and  meet- 
ing Mrs.  Mitchel's  eye,  he  asked  if  he  were  not 
the  most  fortunate  of  men,  adding,  with  reverent 
tenderness  :  "  Jessie  is  mine.  The  Western  prai- 
rie has  given  me  what  I  most  desired  in  the  world  ; 
and  what  I  might  have  sued  for  in  vain  at  home 


294  SURRENDER. 

—  this  dear  girl.  Wish  me  joy,  Mrs.  Mitchel,  in 
gaining  the  greatest  happiness  of  my  life." 

"I  do  wish  you  joy  with  all  my  heart,"  returned 
the  good  woman  earnestly  ;  "  for  I  believe  you  are 
worthy  of  Miss  Jessie,  and  you  will  agree  with  me, 
that  is  giving  you  great  praise.  I  an  not  surprised 
at  such  a  sequel  to  your  adventure,"  she  continued, 
"for  Miss  Jessie  has  told  me  something  of  the 
errand  which  took  her  out  here.  She  would  cer- 
tainly not  be  the  girl  I  take  her  for,  if  she  did  not 
appreciate  your  kindness  and  devotion.  What 
either  she  or  myself  would  have  done  without  such 
a  friend,  God  only  knows.  Now,  everything  will 
come  out  as  it  should :  you  will  marry  her  and 
make  her  happy,  for  she  will  realize  more  and  more 
that  in  her  husband  she  has  one  of  the  best  men 
in  the  world." 

"  Thank  you,  dear  Mrs.  Mitchel ;  we  shall  not 
soon  forget  how  kind  a  friend  we  have  found  in 
you,"  returned  Jessie,  tears  standing  in  her  eyes. 

The  good  woman  had  now  come  over  to  them, 
and,  taking  a  hand  of  each,  wished  them  many 
years  of  happiness  together  here,  and  at  the  end 
of  life's  journey  an  abundant  entrance  into  their 
heavenly  home. 


SURRENDER.  295 

It  was  five  days  since  they  had  taken  possession 
of  Jacob  Stupp's  cabin,  when  the  doctor  came  in 
one  morning  from  a  prospecting  tour,  and  said  that 
the  road  had  at  last  been  broken  through,  and 
they  would  be  able  to  proceed  on  their  journey. 

"  Unless  you  desire  to  prolong  your  stay  here 
we  had  best  be  ready  in  an  hour's  time,"  he  said, 
adding  with  pleasant  irony,  "  Perhaps  five  days' 
sojourn  in  these  regions  has  made  you  so  much  in 
love  with  it  you  do  not  care  to  leave  so  suddenly." 

"  Oh  !  I  think  we  can  tear  ourselves  away,  and 
as  our  wardrobe  is  contained  in  a  hand-bag  it  will 
not  require  a  great  deal  of  time  for  packing,"  said 
Jessie,  who  added  with  a  spice  of  her  old  gayety, 
"  The  West  is  no  doubt  a  fine  country,  but  New 
England  is  quite  good  enough  for  me." 

In  returning  the  key  to  Frau  Steinhauser,  the 
doctor  did  not  forget  to  give  that  good  woman  an 
envelope  addressed  to  Jacob  Stupp,  in  which  was 
a  handsome  remuneration  for  the  use  of  his  house. 

Only  those  who  have  been  snowbound  on  our 
Western  prairies  can  fully  appreciate  the  satisfac- 
tion which  thrilled  the  hearts  of  our  travellers 
when  the  iron  horse  was  once  more  bearing  them 
onward. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

READING   THE    LETTER. 

IT  was  New  Year's  eve,  and  the  night  of  the 
weekly  prayer  meeting,  and  Newbury  was  all 
agog.  Not  for  either  of  the  reasons  mentioned, 
however,  was  the  town  in  its  present  state  of 
excitement.  The  day  before  the  minister's  niece 
had  reached  home,  and  curiosity  to  see  her,  and 
learn  why  her  mysterious  journey  had  been  taken 
would  have  been  sufficient  to  create  an  unusual  in- 
terest on  this  occasion,  but  there  was  still  another 
reason  for  bringing  the  people  out  to-night. 

It  had  been  whispered  in  the  town  that  a  strange 
gentleman  who  had  come  with  Jessie  from  the 
West,  and  who  was  now  staying  as  a  guest  at  the 
parsonage,  would  be  at  the  meeting  that  evening, 
and  make  an  important  communication  to  the  peo- 
ple of  Newbury. 

No  one  outside  of  her  uncle's  immediate  family 
had  seen  Jessie  since  her  return,  and  no  particulars 
had  been  learned  in  the  town  respecting  the  jour- 

296 


READING  THE  LETTER.  2Q/ 

ney  which  had  resulted  in  so  much  anxiety  to  her 
friends. 

For  after  Jessie  and  the  doctor  left  St.  Louis 
nothing  more  was  heard  from  them  for  ten  days. 
That  they  must  have  encountered  the  great  storm 
which  had  swept  the  whole  Northwest  was  known  ; 
but  as  telegraph  lines  were  down  all  through  that 
section  of  the  country,  the  extent  of  its  ravages 
could  not  be  learned. 

That  the  train  which  Jessie  and  the  doctor  had 
taken  was  blocked  somewhere  on  the  prairies,  was 
more  than  likely,  and  that  privation  and  .exposure 
was  being  endured  by  all  on  board,  was  greatly 
feared. 

Miss  Norberry  had  received  a  letter  from  her 
niece,  written  at  Arlington,  in  which  Jessie  had  in- 
formed her  that  she  was  going  to  Kansas  on  busi- 
ness which  she  had  promised  Doctor  Carrol  to 
attend  to  on  his  death,  but  begged  her  aunt  to  say 
nothing  of  her  errand  West  till  her  return. 

But  when  reports  of  the  storm  reached  her 
friends,  and  they  could  learn  nothing  of  her  fate, 
the  minister  had  gone  to  Milton  Carrol  and  told 
him  the  purport  of  Jessie's  letter. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  doctor's  son  was 


298  READING    THE    LETTER. 

staggered  at  this  announcement,  and  insisted  there 
must  be  some  mistake,  as  he  was  sure  that  his 
father  had  no  business  relations  with  any  one  in 
that  part  of  the  country. 

But  Mr.  Norberry  produced  the  letter,  and  there 
it  stood  in  Jessie's  own  handwriting :  "  I  am  going 
to  Kansas  on  business  which  I  promised  Doctor 
Carrol  to  attend  to  on  his  death.  I  cannot  tell 
you  more  at  present,  for  I  feel  it  almost  a  breech 
of  confidence  to  the  dead,  that  I  have  made  even 
this  explanation  before  I  have  carried  out  my 
trust." 

This  was  Milton  Carrol's  first  intimation  that 
there  had  been  any  private  communication  between 
his  father  and  Jessie.  That  his  father  had  a 
peculiar  regard  for  her  he  was  aware,  and  now  it 
seemed  he  had  trusted  her  where  he  had  not  his 
own  family. 

If  Milton  Carrol  could  have  left  the  matter  here 
it  would  have  been  better  for  his  peace  of  mind, 
but  as  the  days  went  on  he  was  haunted  by 
the  fear  that  the  errand  which  had,  perhaps,  sent 
Jessie  Norberry  to  her  death,  was  but  a  freak  of 
insanity.  He  knew  of  no  one  in  the  far  West  with 
whom  his  father  was  even  acquainted,  and  that  he 


READING    THE    LETTER.  299 

could  have  had  business  relations  with  any  one 
there  without  his  knowledge,  seemed  impossible. 

Milton  Carrol  stood  by  the  minister's  side  in 
the  Boston  office  when  the  welcome  dispatch  came 
over  the  wires,  informing  them  that  Jessie  was 
well,  and  on  her  way  home.  Had  this  message 
been  of  a  less  happy  character,  the  doctor's  son 
would  never  have  shown  his  head  in  Newbury 
again.  He  had  been  a  desperate  man  when  he 
entered  that  office  ;  for  the  five  sleepless  nights  in 
which  he  had  been  haunting  the  place  had  well 
nigh  made  himself  as  insane  as  he  feared  his  father 
had  been  when  he  sent  Jessie  on  this  errand. 

When  he  grasped  John  Norberry's  hand  with  a 
muttered  "Thank  God,  she  is  safe  !  "  the  minister 
little  suspected  the  burden  of  fear  and  anxiety 
which  had  been  lifted  from  his  heart. 

Had  it  been  otherwise  with  Jessie  Norberry,  he 
knew  that  another  foul  charge  would  have  been 
brought  against  his  dead  father's  name,  and  this 
time  not  without  some  shadow  of  reason  ;  but  he 
had  resolved  never  to  hear  it.  He  would  have  put 
the  ocean  between  himself  and  the  mocking 
tongues  which  would  have  insulted  his  grief.  On 
the  other,  side  of  the  Atlantic  he  would  make  a 


3OO  READING    THE    LETTER. 

home  for  his  mother  and  himself,  where  the  name 
of  the  dead  would  not  be  aspersed  in  their  hearing. 
But,  happily,  this  ordeal  was  not  before  him. 

Jessie  had  reached  her  destination  so  completely 
worn  out  by  the  discomforts  of  the  journey,  that 
had  an  immediate  return  been  practicable,  neither 
Doctor  Forney  nor  Doctor  Landford  would  have 
allowed  it.  But  the  roads  even  then  were  not  in  a 
condition  to  warrant  a  train  going  directly  through, 
so  for  several  days  our  travellers  were  the  guests 
of  the  man  whom  it  had  been  their  mission  to  find 
in  Kansas,  and  who  entertained  them  with  true 
Western  hospitality. 

This  was  now  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  Jessie 
was  home  again  ;  but  no  one,  with  the  exception 
of  her  uncle's  immediate  family,  yet  knew  why 
she  had  taken  this  journey.  Would  she  be  at  the 
meeting  ?  or  was  she  too  much  disabled  still  from 
the  hardships  she  had  so  lately  endured  to  make 
her  appearance  in  public  ? 

Speculation  was  rife  over  this  matter,  for  it  was 
known  that  only  that  afternoon  friends  calling  to 
see  her  had  failed  to  do  so. 

But  it  was  not  on  account  of  any  physical  disa- 
bility that  Jessie  had  denied  herself  to  visitors, 


READING    THE    LETTER.  3OI 

for  she  was  in  her  accustomed  seat  when  the  meet- 
ing opened. 

The  minister  and  a  stranger  had  entered  the 
vestry  together,  followed  by  Mrs.  Norberry  and 
her  niece.  There  had  never  been  a  larger  attend- 
ance, for  every  seat  was  filled  ;  and  there  were 
many  in  the  audience  who  were  seldom  seen  at  a 
vestry  or  any  other  meeting. 

The  usual  service  of  prayer,  Scripture  reading 
and  singing  were  gone  through  with,  and  then 
the  minister  announced  that  the  lesson  for  the 
evening  would  be  found  in  The  Epistle  pf  Paul  to 
the  Ephesians,  fourth  chapter,  thirty-first  and 
thirty-second  verses  :  — 

"  Let  all  bitterness  and  wrath,  and  anger,  and 
clamour,  and  evil-speaking  be  put  away  from  you, 
with  all  malice  : 

"  And  be  ye  kind  one  to  another,  tender-hearted, 
forgiving  one  another,  even  as  God  for  Christ's 
sake  hath  forgiven  you." 

The  minister  said  there  was  as  much  need  in 
our  day  to  remember  this  injunction  as  when  Paul 
gave  it  to  the  early  church  ;  that  itching  ears  and 
evil  speaking  was  a  sin  in  the  church  in  all  times. 
If  men,  and  women  too,  were  less  ready  to  hear 


3O2  READING  THE  LETTER. 

and  repeat  what  was  often  but  the  promptings  of 
malice,  the  testimony  of  the  recording-angel  would 
bear  less  heavily  against  many  a  name.  The  Church 
would  stand  appalled,  he  thought,  could  it  know 
how  many  reputations  were  pulled  down  and  laid 
in  the  dust,  lives  shadowed,  and  their  good  turned 
to  evil  from  this  cause  alone. 

The  apostle's  charge  seemed  to  be  sadly  disre- 
garded by  many  who  thought  themselves  Christian 
men  and  women.  If  our  sins  were  forgiven  as  we 
forgive  others,  where  should  we  stand  in  that  great 
day  when  a  wise  and  discriminating  Judge  should 
apportion  us  our  deserts  ? 

John  Norberry  closed  the  lesson  by  making  a 
strong  appeal  to  his  people  that  they  should  put 
away  from  them  everything  that  would  hinder  their 
growth  in  the  Christian  life,  or  cause  them  to  be 
stumbling-blocks  in  the  way  of  others. 

Then,  instead  of  dismissing  the  meeting,  he 
went  on  to  say,  "  Friends,  I  have  shortened  the 
exercises  this  evening  in  order  that  you  may  hear 
from  a  gentleman  present  who  has  something  to 
say  to  you,"  introducing  Doctor  Landford,  from 

Kansas. 

This  gentleman  then  rose  and  said :  "  Friends, 


READING    THE    LETTER.  303 

I  have  come  here  from  my  home  in  the  far  West 
to  vindicate  the  fair  name  of  an  old  friend  who  has 
been  greatly  misapprehended  by  you.  Doctor  Mel- 
ville Carrol  was  for  many  years  associated  with  me 
in  my  profession,  and  I  was  as  familiar  with  his 
public  and  private  life  as  it  was  possible  for  any 
one  to  be  outside  of  his  family.  A  better  man  or 
truer  Christian  I  have  never  met.  But  I  have 
learned  within  the  last  few  weeks  that  he  accused 
himself  of  a  crime,  with  what  foundation  I  leave 
you  to  judge  when  I  shall  have  finished. 

"  I  hold  in  my  hand  a  letter  which  he  wrote  me 
some  two  years  before  his  death,  making;  as  he 
says,  a  confession.  For  some  reason,  which  I  do 
not  understand,  but  which  probably  had  its  origin 
in  a  disordered  mind,  he  did  not  wish  me  to  re- 
ceive it  while  he  was  living.  But  he  left  it  in  the 
hands  of  a  friend  in  whom  he  had  all  confidence, 
and  who  promised  to  deliver  it  to  me  immediately 
upon  his  death. 

"  How  faithfully  that  friend  kept  her  promise  you 
will  see  when  I  tell  you  that  she  travelled  over  six- 
teen hundred  miles  to  put  this  letter  in  my  hand, 
encountering  one  of  the  severest  storms  which  has 
visited  the  Northwest  for  many  years  ;  and  in  con- 


304  READING    THE    LETTER. 

sequence  of  which  she  endured  hardships  and  pri- 
vations almost  unparalleled. 

"Now,"  continued  Doctor  Landford,  "I  will 
read  my  old  friend's  letter  to  you,  that  you  may 
know  just  what  the  charge  is  that  he  makes  against 
himself : 


DEAR  OLD  FRIEND  :  —  When  your  eye  falls  upon  these  lines,  I 
shall  have  rendered  up  my  account  at  the  bar  of  a  just  and  merci- 
ful God.  But  I  cannot  go  hence  without  making  a  confession 
which  I  hope  may  ease  my  burdened  conscience.  You  will  re- 
member Mrs.  Winter's  case.  That  unfortunate  lady  died  by  my 
hand,  and  not  of  the  disease  which  her  friends  supposed. 

You  will  recall  our  consultation  over  her  case  some  weeks 
prior  to  her  death,  and  the  fact  that  the  origin  of  her  trouble 
baffled  us ;  since  we  were  then  unable  to  satisfactorily  account  for 
the  attacks  of  distress  from  which  she  so  frequently  suffered. 

I  was  called  to  her  about  ten  o'clock  on  the  night  of  her  death, 
and  found  her  in  great  pain.  I  administered,  as  I  supposed,  a 
remedy,  which  had  in  the  past  sometimes  relieved  her ;  and  soon 
afterward  she  became  easy,  and  I  took  my  leave. 

But  what  was  my  surprise  and  consternation  on  reaching  home 
to  find  on  my  study  table  the  vial  which  I  had  laid  out  to  take 
with  me  that  evening — the  quieting  drug  which  I  supposed  I  had 
just  administered. 

Instead  I  had  given  Mrs.  W.  five  drops  of  a  weak  solution  of 
cyanide  of  potash,  which  happened  to  be  in  my  pocket  at  the 
time,  I  having  put  it  there  for  a  laboratory  experiment. 

I  had  no  sooner  realized  my  terrible  mistake  than  word  was 


READING    THE    LETTER.  305 

brought  me  of  this  lady's  death.  The  drug  had  done  its  fatal 
work  quickly. 

I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  passed  a  sleepless  night,  and  was  illy 
prepared  for  the  post-mortem  examination  on  the  following  day. 

You  will  remember  the  attack  of  faintness  to  which  I  suc- 
cumbed on  that  occasion,  and  which  had  the  effect  of  removing 
me  from  my  victim  whom  I  never  afterward  saw,  as  an  illness  of 
weeks  intervened  before  I  got  about  again. 

Doubtless,  with  other  friends,  you  supposed  me  prostrated  by 
over  work  and  anxiety  as  I  learned  the  verdict  which  you  ren- 
dered on  that  occasion  ;  but  whether  you  had  any  suspicion  of  the 
truth  or  not  I  do  not  know,  as  you  never  mentioned  the  matter  to 
me.  But  I  have  sometimes  thought  you  were  aware  of  my  guilty 
secret,  for  unhappily  I  kept  my  own  counsel  at  the  time  and  since. 

Consideration  for  the  family  and  friends  who  had  no  suspicion 
of  my  error  caused  me  at  first  to  keep  silence ;  and  later  the  fact 
that  the  dear  ones  of  my  own  household  must  suffer  by  such  an 
avowal  shut  my  lips. 

Mrs.  Winter  was  my  last  patient,  for  her  death  so  preyed  upon 
my  mind  as  to  unfit  me  for  the  duties  of  my  profession ;  and  I  at 
once  gave  up  my  practice  and  went  abroad. 

But  in  changing  the  place  I  did  not  change  the  pain,  for  I  felt 
the  brand  of  murderer  was  upon  me,  and  nowhere  could  I  forget 
my  horrible  secret. 

On  my  return  I  moved  to  this  quiet  town,  but  even  here  the 
curse  of  my  unacknowledged  sin  has  followed  me,  and  for  years 
I  have  not  known  any  peace  of  mind. 

I  have  made  this  confession  hoping  to  ease  my  burden  which  at 
times  is  greater  than  I  can  bear  ;  and  I  trust  that  He  who  knows 
the  secrets  of  all  hearts  will  accept  this  tardy  avowal,  and  absolve 
me  of  my  sin  1  MELVILLE  P.  CARROL. 


3C)6  READING    THE    LETTER. 

As  Doctor  Landford  finished  reading  this  letter 
there  was  scarcely  a  dry  eye  in  the  audience,  and 
more  than  one  sob  was  distinctly  audible. 

After  a  moment  he  went  on  :  "  Is  there  any  one 
among  us  willing  to  take  the  responsibility  of  judg- 
ing a  fellow-creature  who  suffered  so  long  and 
deeply  for  a  mistake  to  which  any  one  might  have 
been  liable  ?  I  think  there  is  not  a  person  in  this 
audience  but  must  feel  that  if  Doctor  Carrol  was 
responsible  for  this  lady's  death,  as  he  affirms,  his 
after  life  was  an  atonement  so  far  as  a  godly  sor- 
row and  repentance  could  make  it  so.  But  now 
I  want  to  say  that  I  am  by  no  means  sure  that  my 
poor  friend  was  responsible  in  this  case.  For  after 
I  became  satisfied  that  Mrs.  Winter's  death  was 
not  caused  by  cancer  of  the  stomach,  as  her  friends 
supposed,  I  made  a  farther  autopsy,  and  the  notes 
which  I  took  at  the  time  would  bear  out  my  opin- 
ion that  death  really  resulted  from  organic  heart 
disease  complicated  with  congestion  of  the  lungs. 

"  Had  Doctor  Carrol  not  been  prostrated  ere  the 
autopsy  was  finished  he  might  have  been  saved 
the  years  of  sorrow  and  remorse  which  at  times 
unsettled  his  reason. 

"I  think,"  Doctor  Landford   continued,   "that 


READING    THE    LETTER.  307 

farther  confirmation  than  my  word  will  not  be  nec- 
essary, but  I  will  say  that  I  still  have  in  my  posses- 
sion those  notes,  which  are  at  the  disposal  of  any 
one  minded  to  see  them." 

As  Doctor  Landford  sat  down  the  minister  arose, 
and  proposed  that  a  vote  of  thanks  should  be  ten- 
dered the  doctor  for  this  service  to  their  late  fel- 
low-townsman, and  that  resolutions  of  sympathy 
and  respect  should  be  sent  to  the  family  of  Doc- 
tor Carrol,  whose  memory  would  always  be  hon- 
ored among  them. 

It  is  perhaps  needless  to  add  that  a  unanimous 
vote  was  at  once  taken  in  favor  of  both  propositions. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

DOCTOR  FORNEY  AT  HOME. 

WHY,  Stephen  Forney !  Where  in  the  world 
have  you  been?"  This  was  the  saluta- 
tion the  doctor  met  from  his  sister  on  his  return 
from  the  Western  trip  which  had  taken  him  away 
so  suddenly  more  than  three  weeks  before. 

Miss  Forney  had  received  no  explanation  of  her 
brother's  abrupt  departure  other  than  the  brief 
telegram  which  had  stated  that  he  was  called  sud- 
denly away  from  the  city  on  business  ;  and  after- 
ward a  line  which  he  had  written  at  Rochester, 
saying  he  was  on  his  way  West,  and  she  need  not 
look  for  him  under  ten  days. 

"  Did  you  not  receive  my  telegram  and  letter  ? " 
he  asked,  with  what  his  sister  felt  was  exasperating 
coolness. 

"  Yes  ;  but  what  did  they  tell  me  ?  They  only 
said  you  were  going ;  not  why.  You  never  were 
mysterious  before,  Stephen.  Are  you  married  ? " 

"  Whatever  made  you  think  of  that  ?  Do  you 
308 


DOCTOR  FORNEY  AT  HOME.         309 

suppose  if  I  were  married  that  I  should  come  home 
without  my  wife  ?  What  put  that  into  your  head, 
Harriet  ? " 

"  You  never  went  off  in  such  a  way  before,  and  I 
know  you  did  not  go  alone,  for  Mr.  Kelsey  saw  you 
in  the  depot  the  night  you  left."  Miss  Forney 
was  growing  nervous  under  her  brother's  eye.  "  Of 
course  if  you  had  come  home  in  a  few  days,  as  you 
said  —  what  was  I  to  think  ?  " 

"  Did  Mr.  Kelsey  tell  you  who  was  with  me  ?" 
the  doctor  asked  with  an  amused  smile. 

"  No,  he  did  not  know  the  lady ;  but  from  his 
description  I  judged  it  must  be  Miss  Jessie.  I  did 
not  choose  that  he  should  think  you  had  left  me 
entirely  in  the  dark  as  to  your  movements,  and  so 
I  answered  as  if  I  knew  all  about  it : 

"  O,  yes  !  Miss  Jessie  Norberry.  My  brother 
and  her  father  were  great  friends.  Stephen  is 
very  fond  of  her  for  her  father's  sake,  and  has 
quite  constituted  himself  her  guardian  when  she  is 
in  town." 

The  doctor  laughed,  but  evidently  his  sister's 
words  had  a  little  nettled  him. 

"  You  are  right  so  far,  Harriet,  that  my  compan- 
ion was  Miss  Jessie,  but  you  do  not  pay  my  powers 


3IO         DOCTOR  FORNEY  AT  HOME. 

of  discernment  a  very  high  compliment  when  you 
attribute  my  regard  for  that  young  lady  to  my 
friendship  for  her  father.  But  did  you  think  Miss 
Jessie  had  done  me  the  honor  to  run  away  with 
me  ?  "  he  smilingly  asked. 

"  What  was  I  to  think  ?  You  two  had  started 
off  without  telling  any  one  of  your  intention  or 
destination.  Certainly  your  silence  was  very  puz- 
zling under  the  circumstances.  You  have  been 
gone  over  a  fortnight,  and  now  that  you  are  come 
home  you  beat  about  the  bush  and  tell  me  nothing. 
Of  course  I  saw  the  newspaper  notice  of  your 
being  on  one  of  the  snowbound  trains,  and  that  is 
all  I  have  heard  from  you  in  the  last  fortnight." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  given  you  needless  anxiety, 
sister.  I  did  not  count  on  your  seeing  any  such 
item,  or  I  would  have  telegraphed  you  from  St. 
Louis. 

"The  business  that  took  me  West  was  Miss 
Jessie's,  and  a  private  matter  ;  but,  Harriet,  I  have 
something  to  tell  you."  The  doctor  stopped  a 
moment,  as  if  considering  how  best  to  break  his 
news  to  his  sister,  and  then  added  : 

"  Though  I  did  not  come  home  a  married  man, 
as  you  seem  to  think  I  should,"  smiling,  "I  ex- 


DOCTOR  FORNEY  AT  HOME.         3!  I 

pect  soon  to  be  one,  for  Jessie  Norberry  has  prom- 
ised to  be  my  wife.  To-morrow  I  go  to  Newbury 
to  ask  her  uncle's  consent  to  our  union  ;  and, 
Harriet,  I  hope  after  I  bring  her  home  we  shall  be 
able  to  make  her  happy  here." 

Evidently  the  doctor's  home  had  suddenly  ac- 
quired a  new  interest  in  his  eyes,  and  for  the  next 
few  moments  he  seemed  to  be  taking  a  mental 
inventory  of  the  rich  and  elegant  appointments 
about  him.  Though  not  a  man  vain  of  his  belong- 
ings, or  given  to  rate  them  other  than  as  mere  ac- 
cessories of  his  life,  he  felt  that  the  most  fastidious 
taste  could  scarcely  find  anything  at  faplt  in  the 
externals  of  his  home. 

"  I  am  glad,  Stephen  ;  you  deserve  to  be  happy 
in  your  marriage,  and  I  sincerely  hope  you  will." 
The  doctor  would  never  know  how  much  of  an 
effort  these  few  words  of  approval  cost  his  sister, 
who  had  been  entirely  unprepared  for  this  news, 
notwithstanding  that  she  had  suggested  it. 

Hereafter  another  would  be  first  in  her  brother's 
heart  —  one  whose  right  it  would  be  to  care  for 
him  and  order  his  home.  Her  reign  was  over. 
This  was  the  one  thought  that  had  stamped  itself 
on  her  brain  :  she  was  to  be  deposed  from  her  place. 


312         DOCTOR  FORNEY  AT  HOME. 

Ten  years  before  this  would  not  have  come  so 
hard  to  her.  Then,  she  had  been  used  to  think 
sometimes  of  her  brother's  marriage,  and  even  to 
plan  for  it,  resolving  to  go  away  herself  and  make 
her  home  with  a  maiden  aunt  who  would  have  wel- 
comed her.  But  now  this  relative  was  dead,  and 
she  had  grown  to  look  upon  her  brother's  home  as 
her  own.  Her  nature  was  not  superficial  enough 
to  bear  changes  kindly,  and  to  go  away  now  would 
be  like  tearing  up  her  life  by  the  roots. 

It  had  always  been  held  by  her  as  a  tenet  of 
faith  that  if  a  husband  and  wife  were  to  find  hap- 
piness together  they  must  start  upon  their  mar- 
ried life  alone.  No  third  person  should  be  a  wit- 
ness to  the  slight  differences  which  are  sure  to 
arise  between  those  of  different  temperaments  and 
habits  when  brought  into  the  close  relations  of 
marriage. 

Since  she  was  dependent  upon  her  brother  she 
would  be  obliged  to  stay  and  make  that  uncom- 
fortable third  person  who  would  doubtless  often 
find  herself  d$  trop,  for  that  she  could  leave  him, 
she  knew  had  never  occurred  to  her  brother,  and 
if  she  did,  where  should  she  go  ? 

He  should  never  know  what  this  renunciation  of 


DOCTOR  FORNEY  AT  HOME.         313 

her  life  cost  her,  for  she  felt  it  would  be  that,  and 
his  happiness  should  be  her  first  consideration. 
She  could  not  forget  the  light  in  his  eyes  which 
had  seemed  to  irradiate  his  whole  face  when  he 
told  her  that  Jessie  Norberry  had  promised  to  be 
his  wife. 

With  her  brother's  choice  she  had  no  fault  to 
find  —  in  fact,  she  knew  of  no  one  she  would  rather 
see  his  wife,  and  she  called  herself  jealous  and 
selfish,  adding  nearly  all  the  other  unlovely  quali- 
ties that  she  did  not  more  heartily  share  her  broth- 
er's happiness. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

ONE    TOO    MANY. 

THE  minister's  wife  and  Jessie  were  among 
the  last  to  leave  the  vestry  at  the  close  of 
the  meeting,  and,  on  reaching  the  street,  Mrs.  Nor- 
berry  remembered  something  she  wished  to  say 
to  the  sexton,  and  stepped  back,  bidding  Jessie 
wait  for  her  a  moment. 

Her  aunt  had  no  sooner  turned,  than  Jessie  saw 
some  one  emerge  from  the  shadow  of  the  trees 
opposite  and  approach  her.  The  next  moment 
Milton  Carrol  had  grasped  her  hand,  and  was  say- 
ing hurriedly,  — 

"  Miss  Jessie,  you  have  made  me  your  debtor  for 
life.  But  I  have  much  to  say  to  you.  Shall  I 
find  you  at  home  to-morrow  ? "  His  voice  was 
hoarse  with  emotion,  and  Jessie  felt  thankful  for 
the  friendly  darkness  which  covered  her  own  con- 
fusion, for  his  sudden  appearance  had  strangely 
disconcerted  her. 

3*4 


ONE    TOO    MANY.  315 

"Yes;  and  I  shall  be  happy  to  see  you,"  she 
managed  to  say  calmly ;  then  he  was  gone. 

"  I  am  thankful  that  justice  has  at  last  been  done 
Doctor  Carrol.  I  could  never  blame  his  wife  for 
holding  herself  aloof  from  the  people  here  as  she 
always  has,  but  I  hope  now  she  will  be  able  to 
overlook  the  past  and  come  among  us.  I  am  sure 
she  will  be  very  kindly  received  if  she  can  bring 
herself  to  do  so,"  was  Mrs.  Norberry's  comment  as 
she  laid  off  her  wraps  that  evening. 

The  feeling  in  the  town  toward  the  Carrols  was 
a  matter  about  which  she  had  said  little  ;  but  it  had 
nevertheless  greatly  troubled  her,  and  to-night  she 
had  been  too  much  moved  to  lightly  dismiss  the 
matter. 

"  I  wish,"  she  continued,  "  that  Mr.  Carrol  had 
happened  to  be  present  at  the  meeting  this  even- 
ing, and  witnessed  the  effect  of  his  father's  letter ; 
for  it  might  have  in  a  measure  atoned  for  past  cool- 
ness and  suspicion." 

"He  was  at  the  meeting,"  returned  the  minis- 
ter, "and  he  seemed  quite  overcome,  sitting  with 
his  head  in  his  hand  from  the  time  Doctor  Land- 
ford  commenced  speaking."  Milton  Carrol  was  not 
in  the  habit  of  attending  the  evening  meeting,  and 


3l6  ONE    TOO    MANY. 

it  had  not  occurred  to  Jessie  that  he  had  been 
present  on  this  occasion  till  he  came  and  spoke  to 
her. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Mr.  Norberry,  "he  came  in 
late  and  took  a  seat  near  the  door.  I  think  very 
few  in  the  vestry  were  aware  of  his  being  there. 
His  presence  was  most  opportune,  certainly  ;  but  I 
hardly  understand  how  he  happened  to  come  this 
particular  evening."  The  minister  knew  that  he 
and  Doctor  Landford  had  not  met,  for  the  reason 
that  Milton  Carrol  had  only  returned  to  Newbury 
late  that  afternoon,  and  could  have  had  no  inkling 
of  what  was  to  happen  that  evening. 

"  Humph  !  If  all  the  town  were  there,  I  don't 
know  as  you  need  wonder  at  his  being,"  was  Miss 
Norberry's  response.  That  Milton  Carrol  had 
gone  to  this  meeting  solely  to  see  her  niece,  she 
felt  sure.  She  had  been  watching  Jessie,  and  her 
peculiar  powers  of  divination  where  her  niece  was 
concerned,  made  her  certain  that  she  had  not  only 
seen,  but  spoken  with  the  doctor's  son. 

Miss  Norberry  was  right  in  her  surmise  :  that  it 
was  the  hope  of  seeing  Jessie  that  had  taken  him 
there.  She  had  been  so  constantly  in  his  thoughts 
for  the  last  two  weeks,  that  he  found  himself  in- 


ONE    TOO    MANY.  3 1/ 

voluntarily  entering  the  vestry  that  night,  since 
there  was  the  possibility  of  meeting  her  there. 

After  learning  the  real  service  she  had  done  his 
father  by  the  long  and  perilous  journey  she  had 
just  made,  he  found  himself  unable  to  go  home 
without  in  some  way  testifying  his  gratitude  to  her. 
Speak  to  her  he  must,  and  had  he  not  found  the 
opportunity  to  do  so  privately,  he  would  have  braved 
the  gossips  and  done  so  more  openly. 

So  intent  was  he  upon  this  purpose,  that  he  had 
for  the  moment  entirely  forgotten  the  man  to  whom 
he  owed  his  father's  vindication  ;  nor  did  he  remem- 
ber him  again  till  he  reached  home,  and  found  he 
had  preceded  him  there. 

Doctor  Forney  had  been  detained  from  going  to 
Newbury  the  day  following  his  return  home  ;  and 
it  so  chanced  that  he  was  closeted  with  the  minis- 
ter in  his  study  when  Milton  Carrol  made  his  pro- 
posed call  upon  Jessie. 

For  some  reason  which  she  could  not  have  de- 
fined, the  latter  had  dreaded  this  interview  with  the 
doctor's  son.  That  he  sought  it  to  thank  her  for 
her  service  to  his  father  was  obvious  ;  but  that  it 
foreboded  an  ordeal  for  herself,  she  felt  sure. 

And  no  sooner   had  she   entered  his  presence 


3l8  ONE    TOO    MANY. 

than  her  fears  were,  in  part  at  least,  explained, 
for  she  found  herself  at  once  under  the  masterful 
sway  of  an  attraction  she  could  not  analyze. 

She  had  known  that  his  fine,  generous  nature 
would  keenly  appreciate  what  she  had  done,  and  it 
had  occurred  to  her  that  she  might  find  his  grati- 
tude embarrassing  ;  but  she  was  entirely  unpre- 
pared to  find  her  act  exalted  into  a  grand  and 
heroic  deed. 

For  a  moment  she  hardly  realized  that  it  was  of 
herself  he  was  speaking ;  and  then  she  could  not 
at  once  find  words  in  which  to  disclaim  this  fervid 
praise.  It  was  on  her  lips  to  deny  any  right  to 
such  a  tribute,  when  she  found  herself  listening 
to  an  impassioned  declaration  of  love.  For  a  mo- 
ment she  sat  as  if  entranced  by  these  utterances  ; 
but  the  passionate  appeal,  —  "  My  darling,  you  do 
love  me  a  little !  Give  me  at  least  this  assurance," 
roused  her.  She  started.  What  had  she  been  do- 
ing ?  She,  the  promised  wife  of  another,  listening 
to  words  like  these  ! 

"  Mr.  Carrol,  I  have  no  right  to  hear,  or  you 
to  speak  such  words  to  me.  It  must  not  be,"  she 
said,  raising  both  hands  with  a  gesture  as  of  putting 
away  from  her  something  which  she  feared,  while 


ONE    TOO    MANY.  319 

she  came  near  giving  utterance  to  the  cry  of  her 
heart,  —  "  It  is  too  late  !  "  The  knowledge  of  a 
love  which  she  now  knew  would  have  opened  to 
her  blessed  possibilities  of  existence  of  which  she 
had  not  dreamed,  had  indeed  come  too  late.  But 
though  her  lips  did  not  give  utterance  to  the  cry 
which  had  sprung  to  them,  the  man  standing  op- 
posite, understood  with  the  prescience  of  love  what 
the  proud  spirit  was  striving  to  conceal. 

"You  do  not  mean  me  to  understand  you  are 
not  free  ?  "  he  cried.  "You  cannot  act  such  a  lie 
as  to  marry  any  one  whom  you  do  not  love  ? "  This 
passion  had  carried  him  out  of  himself,  and  for  the 
moment  he  seemed  a  stern,  accusing  spirit. 

"  I  have  promised  Doctor  Forney  I  will  be  his 
wife,  and  I  am  as  irrevocably  bound  as  if  the  vows 
had  been  spoken  which  will  unite  me  to  him." 

If  she  had  been  announcing  her  death-doom  she 
could  hardly  have  done  it  more  sadly  than  in  assur- 
ing Milton  Carrol  that  this  promise  was  inviolable. 

"And  you  tell  me  you  will  marry  one  whom  you 
do  not  love  ? "  came  fiercely  from  the  man  con- 
tending with  an  emotion  which  well-nigh  mastered 
him. 

"You  have  no  right   to   assume   that,"   Jessie 


32O  ONE    TOO    MANY. 

began,  and  faltered,  "You  do  not  know  what  I 
owe  him.  How  kind  and  true  a  friend  he  has 
proved  to  me,"  she  said  tearfully. 

"  But,  my  darling,  you  must  not  do  this  thing. 
You  cannot  carry  it  out.  If  you  were  to  try,  it 
would  only  be  to  wreck  three  lives.  You,  who  are 
are  the  soul  of  purity  and  truth,  could  never  so 
perjure  yourself." 

"Is  there  one  code  of  honor  for  a  man,  and 
another  for  a  woman  ? "  she  asked,  steadying  her 
nerves  to  speak  calmly.  "I  have  not  taken  this 
step  hastily.  It's  more  than  two  years  since  he 
first  asked  me  to  be  his  wife,  and  now  I  have 
promised,  and  I  acknowledge  no  impediment  to  my 
marriage  with  him."  This  was  said  with  a  gentle 
dignity  which  carried  to  her  hearer  a  conviction  of 
her  earnestness. 

"  But  you  must  not  try  to  keep  that  promise. 
It  was  prompted  by  gratitude — from  a  sense  of 
indebtedness.  No  man  worthy  the  name  would 
be  so  base  as  to  take  advantage  of  a  promise  so 
given.  Jessie,  I  cannot  give  you  up.  I  have 
waited  more  than  two  years  to  tell  you  of  my  love. 
I  would  not  ask  you  to  be  my  wife  while  a  stain 
rested  upon  my  name.  Believe  me,  this  was  my 


ONE    TOO    MANY.  321 

only  reason  for  not  speaking."  He  attempted  now 
to  take  in  his  own  the  hand  which  lay  passively 
in  her  lap. 

"Mr.  Carrol,"  she  said,  rising,  and  putting  the 
distance  of  several  feet  between  them,  while  there 
was  that  in  her  manner  which  forbade  a  nearer  ap- 
proach, "  I  forbid  you  to  speak  to  me  in  this  way. 
I  beg  you  will  never  again  attempt  it.  And  now, 
at  the  risk  of  seeming  rude,  I  must  ask  that  you 
leave  me." 

For  a  moment  Milton  Carrol  stood  looking  at 
her,  taking  in  every  turn  of  the  graceful  figure, 
and  dainty  detail  of  dress,  from  the  shining  bands 
of  hair  held  in  place  by  a  silver  comb,  to  the  slip- 
per with  which  she  was  unconsciously  tapping  the 
carpet. 

Jessie  felt  her  cheek  flush  beneath  his  gaze.  It 
was  as  if  he  were  reading  her  inmost  thoughts  as 
he  seemed  to  her  to  have  the  power  of  doing.  She 
could  not  trust  herself  to  speak  again,  though  she 
knew  he  was  waiting  for  some  palliation  of  her  dis- 
missal. 

"  Since  my  presence  seems  to  give  you  pain,  I 
will  go,"  he  said  gently;  "but  I  take  with  me  the 
assurance  that  you  are  not  indifferent  to  me,  and 


322  ONE    TOO    MANY. 

that  you  will  never  be  able  to  keep  your  promise 
to  my  rival." 

Was  Milton  Carrol  as  confident  of  this  last  as 
he  seemed  ?  His  words,  at  least,  had  that  ring 
in  them,  and  they  produced  a  singular  effect  upon 
the  girl  to  whom  they  were  uttered, — whose  face 
suddenly  lighted  up  as  a  doomed  man's  might 
under  the  assurance  of  a  reprieve. 

While  Milton  Carrol  was  putting  on  his  coat  in 
the  hall,  Doctor  Forney  came  out  of  the  minister's 
study.  Any  one  who  had  witnessed  the  meeting 
of  these  two  men  on  this  occasion  would  have 
been  struck  with  the  mutual  surprise  depicted  on 
both  faces.  They  had  bowed,  passed  the  compli- 
ments of  the  day,  Mr.  Carrol  leaving  the  house  as 
the  doctor  passed  on  to  the  family  sitting-room 
from  whence  his  rival  had  a  moment  before  em- 
erged. 

The  room  was  unoccupied  now  save  by  Allan, 
who  had  apparently  just  entered.  The  boy  was 
disconsolately  regarding  a  box  which  he  held  in  his 
hand,  but  his  face  instantly  lighted  up  on  seeing  the 
doctor. 

"Your  cousin  is  not  here  ? "  said  the  doctor,  his 
tone  a  mixture  of  surprise  and  disappointment. 


ONE    TOO    MANY.  323 

"  No  ;  she  went  up-stairs.  But  say,  do  you  know 
what  the  matter  was  ?  "  Allan  asked. 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  there  being  anything  the 
matter,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  Did  you  say  Miss 
Jessie  was  here  a  moment  since  ? "  he  asked,  at  a 
loss  to  understand  why  she  had  not  kept  her  ap- 
pointment with  him. 

She  had  promised  to  meet  him  here  at  the  con- 
clusion of  his  interview  with  her  uncle,  and  she 
knew  that  his  time  was  limited,  as  he  had  a  lecture 
engagement  that  evening,  and  must  return  to  the 
city  by  the  five  o'clock  train.  What  did  her  ab- 
sence mean  ? 

"  Yes ;  she  was  here  when  I  came  in,  but  she 
run  right  away,  and  I  know  she  felt  awful  about 
something,  'cause  she  was  crying.  But  say,  can 
you  fix  this  ?  The  wire  has  come  unfastened,  and 
it  won't  play  a  bit."  Saying  which,  Allan  put  his 
music-box,  of  home-construction,  into  the  doctor's 
hands. 

Thus  appealed  to,  Doctor  Forney  gave  his  at- 
tention to  the  disordered  works,  while  Allan,  sat- 
isfied in  finding  the  assistance  he  had  come  to 
seek,  turned  interlocutor. 

"  Say,  who  were  you  talking  with   in  the  hall 


324  ONE    TOO    MANY. 

just  'fore  you  came  in  ? "  he  asked,  watching  the 
dexterous  fingers  among  his  works. 

"  I  met  Mr.  Carrol  going  out.  You  may  have 
heard  me  speak  to  him,"  was  the  doctor's  reply. 

"  Whew  !  Has  Mr.  Carrol  been  here  ?  What 
did  he  come  for  ?  " 

"  He  did  not  tell  me  his  business,"  returned  the 
doctor,  who  nevertheless  supposed  that  he  knew 
Milton  Carrol's  errand. 

What  more  natural  than  that  he  should  wish  to 
acknowledge  his  obligation  to  the  girl  who  had 
rendered  such  a  service  to  his  dead  father  as  well 
as  to  himself  ? 

"  I'll  bet  he  and  Cousin  Jess  had  a  quarrel.  I 
couldn't  see  her  face,  but  I  know  she  was  crying 
'bout  something,"  said  Allan,  impressed  that  he 
had  arrived  at  the  solution  of  the  mystery ;  for  his 
cousin  leaving  the  room  as  suddenly  as  she  had 
without  any  response  to  his  plea  for  help,  had 
puzzled  him  not  a  little. 

"  Guess  she  don't  know  what  a  awful  lot  of 
money  he  spent  when  she  was  out  West,  sending 
messages  and  things  to  find  out  about  her.  Papa 
said  Mr.  Carrol  stayed  all  the  time  in  the  telegraph 
office,  and  kept  somebody  at  work  day  and  night 


ONE   TOO    MANY.  325 

sending  dispatches.     He  was  almost  crazy,  he  felt 
so  bad  'cause  he  couldn't  hear  from  her." 

"  Little  boys  should  not  repeat  what  they  hear 
their  elders  say,"  interposed  the  doctor.  "Miss 
Jessie  had  taken  that  journey  on  business  for  Mr. 
Carrol's  father,  and  it  was  quite  natural  he  should 
feel  anxious  about  her,  as  all  her  friends  did." 

"  Oh !  but  Mr.  Carrol  loves  her,  and  means  to 
marry  her  some  day ;  and  he  will,  too,  for  nobody 
can't  get  ahead  of  Mr.  Carrol.  I  ain't  telling  tales 
now,  for  I  never  heard  anybody  say  so,  buf  I  know 
some  things  that  people  don't  tell  me,"  said  the 
boy,  who  was  smarting  under  the  reproof  he  had 
just  received. 

Did  Allan  suspect  what  his  own  errand  had 
been  ?  Was  the  boy  cognizant  of  what  had  just 
transpired  in  his  father's  study  ?  Certainly  there 
was  no  malice  in  the  cherubic  face. 

A  moment  later  Allan  was  recounting  the  epi- 
sode of  the  previous  summer ;  and  the  fact  that 
Milton  Carrol  had  found  his  cousin,  and  brought 
her  home  after  everybody  else  had  given  her  up 
for  dead,  lost  nothing  in  Allan's  hands. 

Thanks  to  the  doctor's  deft  fingers  and  kindly 
interest,  the  music-box  was  now  in  order,  and 


326  ONE    TOO    MANY. 

when  Allan  left  the  room  in  high  glee  over  his 
mended  toy,  his  words  were  still  ringing  in  the 
doctor's  ears. 

Was  Allan  right  ?  Did  Milton  Carrol  aspire  to 
marry  the  girl  who  was  so  soon  to  be  his  own 
wife  ?  Why  had  his  call  that  afternoon  so  dis- 
turbed her  ?  For  that  she  had  been  disturbed  was 
evident,  since  her  little  cousin  could  not  have  been 
mistaken.  The  boy  was  too  keen,  and  too  fond  of 
Jessie  to  have  been  deceived  in  this  matter. 

Here  was  probably  to  be  found  the  reason  for 
her  having  failed  to  keep  her  appointment  with 
himself.  What  had  transpired  between  them  to 
have  brought  about  such  a  result  ? 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Jessie 
entered  the  room. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 
MISS  NORBERRY'S  LESSON. 

HELEN  NORBERRY  had,  perhaps,  never 
in  her  life  felt  a  greater  sense  of  satisfac- 
tion than  in  the  engagement  of  her  niece  to  Doc- 
tor Forney.  The  darling  wish  of  her  heart  was  to 
be  realized  at  last.  Jessie  would  marry  into  a  good 
old  family,  and  go  to  live  in  a  centre  of  culture  and 
fashion,  whither  her  aunt  would  of  course  accom- 
pany her,  and  become  an  important  part  of  her 
household. 

On  her  return  Jessie  had  told  her  Aunt  Helen 
just  how  matters  stood  between  herself  and  the 
doctor,  and  this  had  proved  all  the  salve  necessary 
to  heal  that  lady's  wounded  feelings. 

On  the  afternoon  of  which  we  have  made  men- 
tion in  the  previous  chapter,  Miss  Norberry  was 
pacing  the  floor  of  her  chamber  in  quite  a  per- 
turbed state  of  mind.  If  she  had  been  twenty 
years  younger,  and  the  suitor  for  her  niece's  hand 

327 


328  MISS  NORBERRY'S  LESSON. 

had  been  her  own,  she  would  hardly  have  felt  more 
concerned  ;  for  concerned  she  certainly  was. 

But  not  as  to  what  was  happening  in  the  study  ; 
all  was  sure  to  go  well  there.  The  doctor  was  evi- 
dently very  much  in  earnest,  and  her  brother  would 
not  be  likely  to  demur  at  the  brilliant  match  of- 
fered his  orphan  niece.  If  she  could  have  felt  as 
sure  of  Jessie  herself,  she  would  have  had  no  fears  ; 
but  she  knew  that  at  the  moment  Milton  Carrol 
was  with  her  niece,  and  that  their  interview  was  of 
no  ordinary  import ;  for  several  times  the  rich,  ear- 
nest voice  of  the  doctor's  son  had  rung  out  in  tones 
of  passion  not  to  be  mistaken. 

She  knew  when  that  interview  ceased,  and  when 
Mr.  Carrol  left  the  house,  and  also  that  he  and  the 
doctor  had  met  ;  for  no  sound  from  below  escaped 
her  sharpened  senses.  At  the  same  moment  she 
was  aware  that  her  niece  had  come  up-stairs  and 
shut  herself  into  her  room. 

Now  she  would  know  what  had  passed  between 
her  and  Mr.  Carrol,  and  why  Jessie  had  not  re- 
mained to  see  the  doctor,  who  must  at  that  mo- 
ment be  seeking  her. 

She  stepped  across  the  hall  to  her  niece's  door, 
but  found  that  it  was  locked. 


MISS    NORBERRY  S    LESSON.  329 

"Jessie,  I  wish  to  see  you,"  she  said  perempto- 
rily. A  moment  later  the  door  was  opened,  but  the 
expression  of  the  girl's  face  startled  her. 

"  Why  !  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked,  thrown 
quite  off  her  guard. 

Jessie  closed  the  door  mechanically  ere  she  an- 
swered. Then  she  said  quietly,  "Nothing  is  the 
matter,  only  that  I  have  made  a  great  mistake, 
and  must  bear  the  consequences."  Her  voice  was 
so  full  of  suppressed  sorrow  that  for  a  moment  her 
aunt  was  moved  to  sympathy  ;  but  suddenly  divin- 
ing how  matters  stood,  and  remembering  what  was 
at  stake,  she  said  angrily, — 

"  Jessie  Norberry,  I  am  ashamed  of  you.  This 
is  no  time  for  a  weak  indulgence  of  sentiment. 
Remember  your  obligations  to  Doctor  Forney ; 
and  that  he  is  this  moment  waiting  for  you.  Go 
down  to  him  immediately,  and  do  not  disgrace  your- 
self or  your  family  by  any  exhibition  of  maudlin 
heroics  for  a  man  who  is  destitute  alike  of  honor 
and  courage,  for  Milton  Carrol  is  both  a  knave  and 
a  fool." 

In  her  anger  lest  the  doctor's  son  should  step  in 
now  to  mar  her  plans,  Miss  Norberry  had  gone  too 
far,  and  aroused  a  spirit  as  strong  as  her  own. 


33O  MISS    NORBERRY  S    LESSON. 

Jessie  turned  upon  her  with  the  dignity  of  an  in- 
sulted queen  :  — 

"  Please  remember  you  are  speaking  to  my  fath- 
er's daughter,  who  is  not  likely  to  disgrace  her 
blood.  But  I  forbid  you  ever  to  allude  to  Mr.  Car- 
rol again  in  that  way,  and  I  deny  your  right  of 
authority  over  me  in  such  a  matter.  I  am  no 
longer  a  child  to  submit  to  the  coercion  of  my  will. 
If  I  keep  my  promise  to  Doctor  Forney  it  will  be 
because  I  feel  it  right  that  I  should  do  so  ;  though 
I  know  now  that  I  ought  never  to  have  made  it. 
And  now  if  you  have,  no  further  business  with  me, 
I  prefer  to  be  alone." 

That  she  was  dismissed  would  not  have  counted 
with  Miss  Norberry,  but  she  saw  that  Jessie's 
blood  was  up,  and  that  she  would  only  injure  her 
cause  by  remaining. 

"  When  you  see  fit  to  apologize  for  this  you  can 
come  to  me,  but  I  have  no  further  advice  to  offer 
to  such  a  headstrong  girl ; "  and  Miss  Norberry 
quitted  the  room  with  a  semblance  of  wounded 
feeling. 

Ten  minutes  later  Jessie  went  down  to  the  doc- 
tor, outwardly  calm,  at  least. 

When  Doctor  Forney  left  the  parsonage  an  hour 


MISS    NORBERRY  S    LESSON.  33! 

later,  his  marriage  with  Jessie  Norberry  had  been 
arranged  to  take  place  early  in  the  spring.  She 
had  yielded  to  his  wishes  in  naming  an  early  day, 
and  had  been  her  own  sweet,  gracious  self  through- 
out their  interview ;  but,  nevertheless,  the  doctor 
had  missed  something  which  he  had  anticipated. 

Marriage,  to  be  sure,  was  a  serious  matter,  looked 
at  from  a  philosophical  point  of  view,  but  was  it 
usual  for  a  girl  of  Jessie's  years  and  temperament 
to  so  regard  it  ?  If  she  loved  him  as  a  woman 
should  love  the  man  she  had  promised  to  marry, 
would  she  have  misgivings  about  making  him 
happy  ?  There  had  been  something  pathetic  in 
the  way  she  had  responded  to  his  declaration  of 
unbounded  faith  in  her  ability  to  do  so. 

Had  she  really  shrunk  from  all  reference  to  their 
future  together,  or  had  he  imagined  it  ?  She  had 
fallen  in  with  all  his  plans  without  dissent  or  sug- 
gestion. To  his  proposal  of  a  foreign  tour  she  had 
acquiesced,  as  she  had  to  everything  else,  without 
any  evidence  of  its  giving  her  pleasure ;  in  fact, 
throughout  their  interview  she  had  shown  a  gentle 
submissiveness  which,  as  he  thought  of  it  now, 
he  could  but  feel  was  foreign  to  his  nature.  What 
did  it  mean  ?  It  was  not  till  he  recalled  what  had 


332  MISS    NORBEKRY  S    LESSON. 

passed  between  them  that  these  thoughts  presented 
themselves.  While  he  had  been  with  her  he  had 
missed  nothing,  for  the  effluence  of  his  own  love 
had  made  him  oblivious  to  all  else. 

But  now  that  these  thoughts  had  suggested 
themselves  they  troubled  him,  and  he  found  him- 
self unable  to  shake  off  the  impression  they  left. 
It  must  be  all  his  imagination,  since  Jessie  had 
voluntarily  promised  to  marry  him  after  having 
had  months  to  consider  the  matter.  Her  apparent 
coldness  must  be  attributable  to  girlish  modesty. 
When  she  was  his  wife  she  would  be  fond  and  lov- 
ing as  he  believed  it  her  nature  to  be.  Still  the 
serpent  had  entered  his  Eden.  Doubt  and  mis- 
trust would  assail  him,  strive  as  he  might  to  put 
them  away. 

Miss  Forney  watched  her  brother  anxiously  after 
his  return  from  Newbury,  and  it  was  very  evi- 
dent to  her  that  his  happiness  was  not  without 
alloy,  though  he  gave  no  hint  that  everything  was 
not  as  he  wished. 

Did  he  begin  to  have  doubts  about  the  step  he 
was  taking,  now  that  everything  was  settled  ?  Was 
it  only  a  natural  regret  for  the  bachelor  life  he  was 
leaving  behind  him  ? 


MISS    NORBERRY  S    LESSON.  333 

They  had  been  very  happy,  and  now,  of  course, 
everything  would  be  changed.  Did  this  girl  who 
was  so  soon  to  be  her  brother's  wife  appreciate 
what  she  had  won  ?  Miss  Forney  felt  that  it  would 
be  comparatively  easy  to  give  him  up  to  one  who 
did,  but  in  the  opposite  case — well,  she  could  not 
calmly  contemplate  such  an  issue. 

She  would  soon  have  an  opportunity  to  see  them 
together,  and  then  she  would  be  able  to  judge  for 
herself,  for  Jessie  was  coming  up  to  buy  her  wed- 
ding clothes,  and  would  spend  a  day  or  two  with 
them. 

"  Have  you  been  ill  ? "  the  docter  asked  anx- 
iously, when  he  met  Jessie  at  the  station. 

She  flushed  slightly  under  his  gaze,  and  some- 
what reassured  by  her  more  natural  color  as  well 
as  her  declaration  that  she  was  perfectly  well,  he 
presently  lost  sight  of  this  fear  in  his  pleasure  at 
seeing  her  again.  Had  he  been  less  absorbed  in 
her  he  would  have  noted  a  pair  of  dark  eyes  stern- 
ly watching  them  both. 

Though  Jessie  did  not  raise  her  own,  she  was 
conscious  of  these  eyes  being  upon  her,  and  the 
unusual  pallor  of  her  face  which  had  alarmed  the 
doctor,  had  been  due  to  this  fact. 


334  MISS    NORBERRY  S    LESSON. 

Milton  Carrol  had  come  up  to  the  city  on  the 
same  train  with  herself,  and  though  they  had  only 
exchanged  nods,  his  presence  had  disturbed  Jessie 
not  a  little.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  seen 
him  since  their  interview  recorded  in  the  last 
chapter ;  and  though  they  had  not  spoken,  she  had 
known  that  his  eyes  were  constantly  upon  her. 

That  his  trip  to  the  city  was  an  impromptu  one, 
first  decided  upon  when  he  saw  her  alight  from 
her  uncle's  buggy  at  the  station,  she  felt  sure; 
and  that  his  sole  purpose  in  coming  was  that  he 
might  exercise  a  surveillance  over  her  movements. 

It  was  as  if  this  man  had  fettered  her  will ;  and 
what  disturbed  her  more  was,  that  she  found  her- 
self yielding  to  his  dominant  spirit.  Now  that  she 
had  met  him  again  all  the  barriers  she  had  been 
striving  to  put  between  herself  and  him  had  be- 
come as  naught.  Would  she  be  able  to  hold  stead- 
ily to  the  course  she  had  marked  out  as  her  only 
honorable  one  ? 

It  was  a  week  later  when,  going  one  afternoon 
to  the  opera  with  the  doctor,  she  encountered 
Milton  Carrol  again. 

Something  in  the  performance  had  provoked  a 
stinging  satire  from  her  companion,  at  which  she 


MISS    NORBERRY  S    LESSON.  335 

had  laughed  heartily,  when,  happening  to  look  up, 
she  encountered  Mr.  Carrol's  eyes  fixed  upon  her. 

The  doctor  saw  the  change  which  instantly 
came  over  her  face,  and  glancing  in  the  direction 
her  eye  had  taken,  he  was  enlightened  as  to  what 
had  so  affected  her.  Nor  did  it  escape  him  that 
from  .this  moment  Jessie  was  apparently  uncon- 
scious of  the  performance,  though  she  did  not 
again  look  in  Mr.  Carrol's  direction. 

On  leaving  the  theatre,  they  found  that  it  was 
raining  hard,  and  as  their  carriage  was  not  to  be 
seen,  the  doctor  left  Jessie  for  a  moment  to  look 
for  it.  But  he  had  no  sooner  done  so  than  she 
felt  a  hand  laid  upon  her  arm,  and,  looking  up,  met 
the  appealing  eyes  of  the  man  whom  she  had  felt 
was  near  her. 

"My  darling,  this  struggle  is  killing  you.  Break 
these  hateful  bonds  and  be  free.  You  do  not  suf- 
fer alone,  for  I  have  been  in  torment  the  last  fort- 
night, and  the  man  for  whom  you  are  sacrificing 
yourself  is  far  from  happy.  Fate  is  too  strong  for 
you  —  you  cannot  —  " 

Milton  Carrol  was  prevented  from  finishing  his 
sentence  by  the  approach  of  the  doctor  whom  he 
did  not  care  to  meet,  and  with  a  courteous  good- 


336  MISS  NORBERRY'S  LESSON. 

day,  he  turned  away  without  having  won  from 
Jessie  any  recognition  of  his  presence. 

The  impassioned  manner  in  which  he  was  ad- 
dressing her  had  not  escaped  the  doctor,  nor  was 
he  misled  by  Mr.  Carrol's  leave-taking  to  believe 
that  his  words  had  been  of  ordinary  import  such 
as  any  one  might  exchange  with  a  friend. 

"  The  carriage  is  close  by  now.  I  think  Tom 
was  asleep,  as  he  had  not  even  fallen  into  line.  I 
hope  you  were  not  subjected  to  annoyance  through 
my  leaving  you,"  the  doctor  added  as  Jessie  did 
not  respond. 

"  O,  no !  Mr.  Carrol  came  and  spoke  to  me  ; 
perhaps  you  saw  him,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  brief  reply,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment the  doctor  was  carefully  shielding  her  from 
the  rain  as  she  crossed  the  sidewalk  to  the  waiting 
vehicle. 

They  were  nearly  home  when  Jessie  spoke  of  her 
intention  to  go  back  to  Newbury  on  the  morrow, 
as  she  had  overstayed  the  time  which  she  had  set 
to  her  friends. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  cannot  spend  another  day  with 
us.  Harriet  is  calculating  upon  your  doing  so,  and 
as  for  myself,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  almost  been  de- 


MISS    NORBERRY  S    LESSON.  337 

frauded  of  my  rights,  I  have  seen  so  little  of  you." 
Jessie  submitted  to  the  pressure  which  was  a  ca- 
ress of  the  hand  the  doctor  had  taken. 

"  I  will  do  better  when  I  come  again.  You  shall 
have  no  reason  to  complain  of  being  defrauded  of 
your  rights,"  she  said  gently,  adding,  "  if  we  could 
but  go  back  to  Greek  simplicity,  one  need  not  be 
such  a  slave  to  one's  dressmaker  and  modiste  ;  but 
I  suppose  I  must  not  be  quite  a  guy,  as  you  might 
have  something  to  say  about  that." 

"As  if  you  could  be  a  guy,  wear  what  you  would," 
returned  the  doctor  gallantly,  as  the  carriage  drew 
up  at  Mrs.  Wilson's  door. 

A  moment  later  he  had  bidden  her  good-night, 
with  the  benediction,  "  May  the  angels  keep  you, 
my  child,"  and  the  light  kiss  he  left  upon  her  fore- 
head seemed  to  Jessie  a  fitting  supplement  to  his 
words. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

RELEASE. 

,  are  you  quite  sure  that  this  mar- 
riage  is  to  be  for  your  happiness  ?  Forgive 
me  for  asking  the  question,  but  you  have  not 
seemed  like  yourself  of  late,  and  I  cannot  help 
feeling  that  something  is  troubling  you." 

The  doctor  was  sitting,  preoccupied,  before  his 
desk,  where  he  had  seated  himself  half  an  hour  be- 
fore, ostensibly  for  work  ;  but  though  he  had  taken 
his  pen  in  his  hand,  he  had  attempted  nothing. 
As  his  sister  spoke,  he  turned  quickly,  and  a  slight 
flush  came  into  his  pale,  intellectual  face. 

"  My  marriage  with  Jessie  Norberry,  Harriet, 
will  probably  never  take  place.  It  was  a  mistake, 
my  thinking  to  bind  her  to  me,  and  I  have  deter- 
mined to  give  her  back  her  freedom."  The  doctor 
spoke  quietly,  but  his  sister  saw  the  passion  that 
lay  behind  his  words. 

"  No,"  he  resumed,  "  I  have  been  indulging  in  a 
wild,  boyish  dream,  and  the  sooner  it  is  forgotten 

338 


RELEASE.  339 

the  better.  To  realize  this  dream  has  been  my 
hope  for  the  last  two  years,  and  I  acknowledge  that 
it  has  been  hard  to  give  it  up.  Jessie  Norberry  is 
herself  aware  that  she  would  not  find  her  highest 
happiness  as  my  wife,  though  her  sense  of  honor 
would  hold  her  to  the  promise  she  made  me.  I 
have  seen  to-day  what  convinces  me  not  only  that 
her  heart  has  never  been  mine,  but  that  it  is  given 
to  another  ;  and  since  she  will  not  break  her  bonds, 
I  must  do  it  for  her." 

As  if  he  had  been  bracing  himself  to  this  effort, 
the  doctor  began  at  once  using  the  pen  in  his  hand 
upon  the  paper  which  lay  before  him.  A  few  mo- 
ments later  his  sister  stole  from  the  room,  that  her 
exit  might  not  disturb  him,  sure  that  he  would  not 
miss  her.  It  was  late  in  the  night  when  she  heard 
him  come  up  the  stairs,  and  as  he  was  not  the 
man  to  draw  back  from  what  he  felt  was  his  duty, 
she  knew  he  had  not  sought  his  pillow  till  that 
fateful  letter  had  been  written  which  contained  the 
renunciation  of  his  hopes. 

Before  Jessie  had  been  two  hours  at  home  the 
doctor's  letter  was  put  into  her  hands,  and  though 
she  had  striven  to  hide  her  emotion  on  reading  it, 
her  Aunt  Helen  who  was  present,  detected  it. 


34O  RELEASE. 

"  What  is  the  trouble  ?  From  whom  is  your 
letter  ?  "  she  asked,  noting  the  changing  color  with 
which  the  girl  had  scanned  its  pages. 

For  answer,  she  arose,  and,  putting  it  into  her 
aunt's  hanJs,  quitted  the  room. 

"Jessie  Norberry,  you  are  a  fool,"  was  that 
lady's  very  decided  ejaculation  as  she  took  in  the 
purport  of  the  letter.  Then,  reading  the  words 
aloud  which  had  so  raised  her  ire  against  her 
niece,  —  "  '  I  give  you  up  to  him  whom  you  love, 
and  who  is  better  fitted  than  I  to  make  you  happy,' 
—  Yes,  Milton  Carrol  with  his  crazy  blood  is  of 
course  a  better  mate  for  her,  since  they  will  be  two 
lunatics  well  matched,"  was  the  irate  rejoinder. 

"I  might  have  expected  it,"  she  added  sadly,  a 
moment  later,  knowing  now  that  all  her  planning 
and  scheming  had  been  in  vain.  "Jessie  never 
did  appreciate  her  blood.  I  shall  let  her  know 
what  I  think  of  her  playing  fast  and  loose  in  this 
way,  and  with  such  a  man  as  the  doctor,  too." 
Here  Miss  Norberry  picked  up  the  letter  which 
had  fallen  from  her  hand,  and  resumed  her  read- 
ing. 

"  '  That  every  blessing  which  life  can  bring  may 
attend  you,  is  the  prayer  of  him  who  will  never 


RELEASE.  341 

forget  his  lost  love.'  She  deserves  it,"  was  Miss 
Norberry's  comment  when  she  had  finished,  but 
she  did  not  allude  to  the  blessing  which  the  writer 
had  called  down  upon  the  head  of  his  lost  love ; 
for,  notwithstanding  the  language  in  which  this 
letter  was  couched,  the  angry  woman  only  saw  in 
it  the  rejection  of  her  niece's  hand. 

Doubtless  at  the  moment  Miss  Norberry  meant 
what  she  said  in  declaring  her  intention  to  do  bat- 
tle for  the  doctor,  but  evidently  she  thought  better 
of  it,  for  the  only  notice  she  took  of  her  niece's 
broken  engagement  was  to  put  out  of  sight  at  once 
all  the  preparations  she  had  been  making  toward 
her  trousseau. 

Perhaps  she  had  not  forgotten  Jessie's  avowed 
determination  to  be  guided  only  by  her  own  judg- 
ment in  this  matter.  At  least  her  good  sense  had 
shown  her  that  nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  her 
interference,  since  the  doctor  had  put  it  out  of  her 
power  to  plot  or  scheme  further  for  this  marriage. 

Milton  Carrol  seemed  likely  to  win  in  spite  of 
the  heavy  stakes  she  had  played  against  him,  and 
probably  she  saw  that  the  part  of  wisdom  was  to 
make  no  further  opposition. 

But  meanwhile  how  was  Jessie  taking  her  re- 


342  RELEASE. 

lease  ?  On  reading  the  doctor's  letter  she  was  sud- 
denly conscious  of  losing  a  great  burden,  but  only 
to  find  that  another  was  substituted  in  its  place. 

Why  had  it  been  ordained  that  she  should  win 
a  love  which  she  had  neither  appreciated  nor  been 
able  to  return  ?  When  the  fact  had  first  come 
home  to  her  consciousness  that  the  man  whom  she 
had  promised  to  marry  had  never  called  out  the 
wealth  of  affection  of  which  she  was  capable,  and 
that  another  had  done  so,  in  the  revulsion  of  feel- 
ing toward  him  it  had  seemed  impossible  to  keep 
her  promise. 

But  there  were  her  obligations  to  the  doctor, 
more  binding  to  one  of  Jessie's  nature  than  all  the 
dictates  of  inclination.  Had  she  not  accepted  from 
him  services  which  she  would  ill  requite  were  she 
to  prove  false  in  keeping  her  promise  to  him  ?  She 
could  not  break  faith  with  the  doctor  after  what 
had  passed.  No  ;  a  thousand  times  no  !  Better 
sacrifice  her  own  happiness  than  to  prove  recreant 
to  honor  and  principle. 

She  had  found  her  only  solace  in  the  thought 
that  the  doctor  would  never  know  he  had  not  been 
first  in  her  heart ;  for  she  had  determined  to  do  her 
whole  duty  as  his  wife. 


RELEASE.  343 

But  this  sudden  release  had  shown  her  the  prec- 
ipice upon  which  she  had  been  standing,  and  how 
specious  had  been  such  arguing,  since  she  would 
have  been  no  true  wife,  however  religiously  her 
marriage  vows  had  been  kept. 

This  girl  had  a  large  share  of  that  martyr-spirit 
with  which  so  many  women  are  endowed,  and  once 
having  brought  herself  to  feel  it  was  her  duty  to 
marry  the  doctor,  it  had  seemed  comparatively 
easy.  But  now  that  her  reprieve  had  come,  she  could 
not  be  glad  in  it.  What  would  she  not  have  sacri- 
ficed now  to  have  saved  the  doctor  the  disappoint- 
ment and  chagrin  to  which  she  had  unwittingly 
subjected  him  ! 

She  was  suffering  a  kind  of  mental  torture  now 
that  she  could  not  save  from  all  unpleasant  conse- 
quences of  her  mistake,  the  man  who  had  called 
out  her  highest  esteem,  if  not  love. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

WAITING. 

MILTON  CARROL'S  desire  to  see  and 
speak  with  Jessie  on  the  night  of  the 
meeting  had  made  him  for  the  moment  forget  that 
the  man  who  had  travelled  over  sixteen  hundred 
miles  to  vindicate  his  father's  name,  deserved  some 
recognition  at  his  hands. 

In  leaving  the  vestry  there  had  been  an  unde- 
fined purpose  in  his  mind  to  make  himself  known 
to  his  father's  defender,  and  insist  upon  taking  him 
to  Elm  Brook  Farm  ;  but  Doctor  Landford  had 
gone  clear  out  of  his  mind  as  he  saw  Jessie  and 
her  aunt  step  upon  the  sidewalk. 

Our  readers  are  familiar  with  what  followed. 
After  those  few  words  spoken  in  the  shadow  of 
the  vestry,  Milton  Carrol  had  turned  and  walked 
quickly  in  the  direction  of  home,  his  thoughts  in- 
tent upon  the  singular  developments  of  the  even- 
ing, and  the  coming  interview  on  the  morrow  with 

Jessie. 

344 


WAITING.  345 

So  he  was  not  a  little  surprised  on  entering  the 
family  sitting-room  to  find  his  mother  in  conver- 
sation with  his  father's  old  friend,  who  had  not 
waited  for  his  invitation  to  Elm  Brook  Farm,  but 
had  preceded  him  there. 

Mrs.  Carrol  was  taken  entirely  by  surprise  when 
Doctor  Landford  was  ushered  into  her  presence ; 
for  this  was  her  first  intimation  that  he  was  in 
town. 

The  unexpected  meeting  with  this  friend  of 
former  years  had  called  up  so  many  memories  that 
for  a  few  moments  she  had  been  too  much  over- 
come for  the  doctor  to  introduce  the  matter  which 
had  brought  him  to  Newbury,  though  he  was  just 
doing  so  when  her  son  entered. 

"  I  was  just  telling  your  mother  that  I  have  a 
letter  \vritten  by  your  father  to  me  sometime  be- 
fore his  death,  which  I  think  you  would  both  like  to 
see,"  Doctor  Landford  said  after  greeting  the  son 
of  his  old  friend. 

"  Yes,  I  was  at  the  meeting  to-night  and  heard 
you  read  that  letter;  and  words  would  but  poorly 
express  the  gratitude  I  feel  for  your  kindness," 
Milton  Carrol  said,  with  a  hearty  grasp  of  their 
visitor's  hand. 


346  WAITING. 

"  Mother,"  he  said  now,  turning  to  her,  "  pre- 
pare yourself  for  an  explanation  of  all  that  was 
mysterious  in  my  father's  life  ;  for  this  letter,  and 
what  our  good  friend  can  tell  us  of  the  circum- 
stance, clears  up  what  has  heretofore  been  inexpli- 
cable to  us." 

Doctor  Landford  passed  the  letter  to  him,  and 
Milton  Carrol  read  aloud  while  tears  were  coursing 
down  his  mother's  cheeks.  When  he  had  finished, 
the  doctor  repeated  substantially  the  explanation 
he  had  given  before  the  meeting. 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Milton  Carrol  when  he  had 
finished,  "  that  my  father  should  have  kept  this 
from  us.  He  talked  of  it  frequently  when  he  was 
not  himself,  but  never  as  a  mistake  ;  and  we  were 
unable  to  gather  from  his  utterances,  how  the  af- 
fair happened,  or  whose  death  it  was  of  which  he 
accused  himself.  This  accounts,"  he  continued, 
"  for  his  being  so  overcome  when  he  met  Mr. 
Winter  at  the  Glen,  the  husband  of  the  unfortunate 
lady." 

"  I  am  sure  Doctor  Carrol  even  at  that  time 
could  not  have  been  himself,  to  have  made  such  a 
mistake,  since  he  was  the  most  careful  of  men.  I 
can  easily  see  how  his  scrupulous  conscientious- 


WAITING.  347 

ness  should  afterward  magnify  it  into  a  crime," 
Mrs.  Carrol  said  feelingly. 

"  Yes  ;  and  it  was  most  unfortunate  he  should 
never  have  learned  that  his  mistake  did  not  really 
cause  his  patient's  death,  since  such  an  assurance 
would  have  saved  him  many  hours  of  sorrow  and 
self -accusation,"  returned  his  son. 

"  We  physicians  oftener  have  the  issues  of  life 
and  death  in  our  hands  than  other  men,  and  could 
we  all  be  as  exempt  from  our  mistakes  as  your 
father,  we  should  do  well,"  was  Doctor  Landford's 
response. 

It  was  late  before  Mrs.  Carrol  or  her  son  would 
hear  to  their  friend  leaving  them  ;  nor  would  they 
have  consented  to  his  doing  so  that  night,  but  that 
his  baggage  was  at  the  parsonage  where  they  would 
be  looking  for  him,  as  he  was  to  leave  Newbury 
early  in  the  morning. 

On  the  following  day  Milton  Carrol  had  made 
the  call  on  Jessie  which  we  have  previously  re- 
corded. How  that  interview  ended  our  readers 
are  aware. 

While  declaring  with  so  much  apparent  certainty 
that  she  would  not  be  able  to  keep  her  promise  to 
his  rival,  down  deep  in  his  heart  was  the  con  vie- 


348  WAITING. 

tion  that  the  spirit  which  had  prompted  her  to 
brave  so  much  of  danger  and  physical  discomfort 
to  keep  her  word  in  the  simple  matter  of  delivering 
a  letter,  would  exact  the  fulfilment  of  her  bond  even 
to  the  sacrificing  of  herself. 

It  was  this  belief  which  sent  him  to  the  city  on 
the  occasion  of  her  going  up  to  buy  her  wedding 
clothes.  The  desire  to  save  her  from  the  exactions 
of  an  overscrupulous  conscientiousness  made  him 
cognizant  of  her  every  movement  during  all  these 
tedious  shopping  tours,  and  interviews  with  dress- 
makers and  modistes,  in  which  she  had  never  been 
alone. 

The  only  chance  he  had  found  to  speak  with  her 
in  all  that  week  had  been  in  the  theatre  vestibule 
when  he  had  begged  her  to  break  her  bonds  and 
be  free.  That  she  was  suffering  was  evident  to 
him,  and  the  fact  well-nigh  tortured  him. 

Had  Miss  Norberry  seen  him  that  night  when 
he  rushed  out  in  the  rain  forgetful  of  the  fact  that 
he  was  in  evening  dress,  she  would  have  had  some 
reason  to  believe  him  subject  to  attacks  of  lunacy, 
as  she  had  often  declared  was  the  case. 

He  was  aware  of  Jessie's  leaving  the  city  the 
following  day,  and  he  had  hoped  much  from  her 


WAITING.  349 

doing  so.  Knowing  that  she  had  returned  to 
Newbury,  he  breathed  more  freely;  for,  notwith- 
standing that  she  kept  herself  invisible  to  him,  it 
was  a  satisfaction  to  know  that  she  was  not  with 
his  rival. 

The  sense  of  security  which  he  felt  in  her  being 
at  home  was  short-lived,  however  ;  for  scarcely  a 
fortnight  had  elapsed  when  he  heard  what,  for  the 
moment,  nearly  took  his  breath  away. 

Three  days  before,  she  had  left  for  New  York, 
whence  she  was  to  sail  for  Europe.  In  fact  she 
had  gone  abroad  with  her  Aunt  Wilson.  No  lisp 
of  any  such  intention  on  her  part  had  gotten  out 
in  the  town,  and  she  was  already  on  the  ocean  ere 
it  was  known  in  Newbury. 

What  did  it  mean  ?  Had  she  indeed  broken 
her  engagement  with  Doctor  Forney  ?  It  must  be 
that  this  was  the  case,  for  they  were  to  have  been 
married  in  the  spring. 

Milton  Carrol's  heart  gave  a  great  leap,  and  his 
first  impulse  was  to  follow  and  claim  his  love  ;  but 
a  calmer  second  thought  showed  him  that  Jessie 
had  gone  away  now  to  avoid  him.  He  would  be 
patient  and  wait,  since  she  had  broken  her  bonds  ; 
in  the  near  future  his  love  would  return  to  him. 


35O  WAITING. 

Possessing  a  thoroughly  healthy  nature  he  did 
not  give  himself  up  to  vain  longings  for  a  sight  of 
the  face  which  would  have  so  blessed  his  vision  ; 
nor  did  he  turn  aside  from  any  of  the  prosaic 
duties  which  just  now  made  up  his  life.  With  the 
care  of  settling  up  his  father's  estate,  and  looking 
after  his  farm,  he  had  little  time  for  brooding  over 
Jessie's  absence,  while  a  fair  sweet  presence  sweet- 
ened every  duty,  so  constantly  was  she  with  him 
in  his  thoughts. 

It  was  in  November  that  she  had  gone  away, 
and  when  the  loveliness  of  spring  was  abroad  in 
the  land,  he  thought  of  her  wandering  among  the 
beauties  of  the  Tyrol  ;  and  when  the  scorching 
heats  of  summer  parched  the  country  side  he  re- 
membered that  she  was  looking  down  from  her 
altitude  among  the  Alps  upon  green  valleys  where 
a  perpetual  irrigation  made  such  an  arid  condition 
impossible.  But  the  winter  and  another  spring 
rolled  away,  and  still  she  did  not  come. 

In  boating  his  hay  up  river  on  a  fair  August 
night,  Milton  Carrol  found  himself  strangely 
haunted  by  remembrances  of  that  night  two  years 
before  when  Jessie  had  been  his  companion  on  a 
like  trip. 


WAITING.  351 

The  same  sweet,  wistful  eyes  seemed  to  be 
again  looking  at  him  from  the  bow  of  the  boat. 
How  insensate  he  had  been  on  that  occasion. 
Why  had  he  not  spoken  then  ?  Had  he  done  so, 
this  weary  separation  might  have  been  averted. 
Was  it  some  subtle,  spiritual  communication  which 
came  to  him  across  the  intervening  waters  ?  So 
near  to  him  did  his  love  seem  at  that  moment, 
that  he  uttered  the  words  of  tender  endearment 
which  sprang  to  his  lips. 

It  was  only  two  days  later  that  business  took 
him  to  the  city,  and  whom  should  he  meet  in  the 
station  but  the  fair  personation  of  all  his  thoughts. 
Jessie  in  her  young  bright  beauty  stood  before 
him.  Their  eyes  met,  and  the  next  moment  he 
was  holding  a  soft  little  hand  which  closed  with  a 
firm  pressure  on  his  own. 

Their  greeting  over,  inquiries  followed,  and  Mil- 
ton Carrol  learned  that  Jessie  had  landed  two  days 
before  (the  very  hour  when  she  had  seemed  so 
near  him)  and  that  she  was  now  on  her  way  to 
Newbury. 

Whatever  his  business  had  been,  he  at  once 
forgot  that  he  had  any  other  than  to  accompany 
her  there. 


WAITING. 


A  railroad  train  is,  perhaps,  not  the  most  de- 
sirable place  in  the  world  for  the  exchanging  of 
lovers'  vows,  but  probably  worse  places  have  been 
utilized  for  such  a  purpose.  It  was  certainly  soon 
settled  between  the  couple  who  had  taken  a  rear 
seat  in  the  car  that  they  were  to  be  one  instead  of 
two  hereafter. 

"  I  have  waited  patiently  for  you,  my  darling, 
but  I  will  never  let  you  go  from  me  again,"  was 
Milton  Carrol's  passionate  utterance,  followed  by 
the  declaration,  "  You  are  mine  now,  and  I  shall 
make  no  delay  in  asserting  my  claims,  lest  you 
escape  me  again." 

"  Remember  this  is  a  free  country,"  was  Jessie's 
laughing  response.  "  If  you  attempt  to  put  me  in 
bonds  I  can  appeal  to  the  law.  But  do  not  fear 
that  I  shall  again  run  away  from  you,"  she  added, 
with  grave  sweetness.  "  I  am  satisfied  with  wan- 
dering over  the  face  of  the  earth,  —  home  will  be 
dearer  to  me  than  ever  before." 

"  The  only  bonds  I  will  put  upon  you  are  those 
of  love,  but  they  will  hold  you  very  tightly,"  re- 
turned the  fond  lover,  "and  I  want  you  should 
wear  your  fetters  at  once,  for  I  shall  never  feel 
sure  of  you  till  you  have  given  yourself  to  me." 


WAITING.  353 

"  I  suppose  you  can  claim  your  own  when  and 
where  you  like,"  said  Jessie  archly,  adding  a  mo- 
ment later,  —  "  If  you  want  so  uncertain  a  blessing 
as  myself  you  have  only  to  take  me,  since  the  doc- 
tor would  not." 

Milton  Carrol  would  probably  have  interpreted 
this  permission  very  literally  if  such  a  proceeding 
would  not  have  had  spectators ;  as  it  was,  he  was 
obliged  to  content  himself  with  raising  to  his  lips 
the  hand  which  was  folded  tenderly  in  both  his 
own. 

A  few  months  later  there  was  a  quiet  wedding 
in  the  parsonage,  for  Jessie  wanted  no  display  in 
her  marriage,  and  only  a  few  friends  were  present 
to  wish  the  wedded  pair  joy  on  the  journey  which 
inaugurated  their  honeymoon. 

Mrs.  Carrol,  a  few  weeks  later,  gave  her  new 
daughter  a  mother's  welcome,  and  at  once  resigned 
her  place  as  mistress  of  Elm  Brook  Farm  to  her 
son's  wife.  This  marriage  was  the  fulfillment  of  a 
hope  she  had  long  cherished. 

Jessie  had  always  been  a  great  favorite  among 
her  uncle's  parishioners,  and  she  seemed  not  to 
have  lost  a  whit  of  their  esteem  in  her  marriage ; 
for  she  had  no  sooner  settled  down  in  her  husband's 


354  WAITING. 

home,  than  Elm  Brook  Farm  became  the  most 
popular  house  in  the  town.  Somehow,  too,  the 
people  of  Newbury  suddenly  awoke  to  the  fact  that 
the  doctor's  widow  was  a  great  acquisition  to  the 
place.  The  minister  had  for  some  time  found 
in  Mrs.  Carrol  his  most  efficient  ally,  and  he  was 
always  sure  of  her  assistance  in  every  good  work. 

Since  her  husband's  death  she  had  gone  more 
into  society,  where  she  had  soon  made  many 
friends,  and  ere  long  her  voice  was  often  heard  in 
the  evening  meetings. 

It  was  an  innovation  in  Newbury  for  a  woman 
to  speak  at  these  gatherings  for  praise  and  prayer, 
but  John  Norberry  had  urged  this  gifted  lady  to 
do  so ;  and  certainly  no  one  had  found  cause  for 
offense  in  the  sweet,  Christian  teaching  which  fell 
from  her  lips.  In  fact,  her  noble,  exemplary  life 
came  to  be  the  standard  of  womanly  excellence  in 
the  town. 

We  will  take  a  peep  at  Jessie  ten  years  after  her 
marriage.  Her  home  is  no  longer  in  Newbury, 
though  she  still  spends  her  summers  there. 

Her  husband  has  some  time  since  been  called  to 
a  position  which  necessitates  his  passing  most  of 
his  time  at  the  nation's  capital ;  and  here  he  has 


WAITING.  355 

his  family  with  him  ;  for  he  feels  that  life  is  much 
too  short  for  frequent  separations  from  his  dear 
ones. 

So  Jessie  has  come  to  regard  Washington  as  her 
home,  where  she  spends  the  greater  part  of  the 
year,  and  where  her  children  are  growing  up 
around  her. 

In  her  beautiful  home  she  often  receives  the  first 
people  of  the  country,  but  among  her  most  wel- 
come guests  are  Doctor  Forney  and  his  sister, 
whom  she  counts  among  her  warmest  friends,  and 
who  seldom  allow  a  year  to  pass  without  making 
her  a  visit. 

Miss  Forney  when  seeing  Jessie's  sweet  ma- 
tronly ways,  and  her  gentle,  loving  manner  of 
managing  her  children,  often  thinks  with  a  sigh 
of  what  might  have  been,  while  the  doctor  seems 
to  have  transferred  the  love  he  bore  the  mother  to 
her  children,  who  think  there  is  nobody  in  the 
world  quite  so  good  as  "  Uncle  Stephen." 

Miss  Norberry  has  changed  her  opinion  some- 
what in  regard  to  Jessie's  marriage  ;  for  now  that 
lady  often  speaks  with  no  little  pride  of, — "  My 
niece,  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Milton  Carrol. 

Young  Mrs.   Carrol's  beauty,  grace,  and  unaf- 


356  WAITING. 

fected  manners  have  won  appreciation  even  in 
high  places  ;  but  she  is  never  so  happy  in  the  bril- 
liant city  life  where  she  truly  reigns  a  queen,  as 
when  with  her  little  family  she  goes  in  the  early 
spring  to  old  Newbury,  and  settles  down  to  the 
quiet,  rural  life  which  always  had  so  great  a  charm 
for  her. 


A    000  131  393     1 


